


Liberation

by Yeppi



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Rape Aftermath, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-01-15 02:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1288162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeppi/pseuds/Yeppi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aoba finally tells Koujaku about the 'incident' with Mink. Koujaku gets paranoid about Aoba’s safety, which is only heightened when he goes missing. Convinced that Scratch is behind the kidnapping, Koujaku and Mizuki decide to hunt the captors down after a night of drinking.</p><p>EDIT: now that I'm updating this again, I went back and gave the first chapter a touch up. It was kinda clunky and didn't age too well, but we're all good now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pillow Talk

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is pretty much just an excuse for smut. I'd say sorry, but I'm really not.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter is basically just an excuse for smut. I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm really not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I went through and fixed this chapter up a bit since I didn't think it aged very well. The writing was kind of awkward and Aoba was pretty flat in terms of personality. Anyways, enjoy.

Bacon.

He definitely smelled bacon.

Koujaku pivoted his body atop his elbow in an attempt to roll over, throwing himself against the bed with an exasperated sigh. When did it become this hard to get out of bed? Aoba must be rubbing off on him. The thought forced his eyes open, however slow that process was. In his half-asleep stupor, he came to the conclusion that his lover was no longer curled up next to him.

Aoba… woke up before him? No way.

Reaching up to wipe the sleep from his eyes, Koujaku slowly sat up. The blanket slid around his waist, exposing his bare chest to the elements. It was drafty, a cool breeze flowing in through the open window. Aoba must have opened that after waking up. They never sleep with the window open, Aoba’s been paranoid of burglars ever since the kidnapping incident with Tae-san. He may forget to lock the door on occasion, but the thought of someone catapulting themselves from the balcony and into the room they were sleeping in was a bit too much to ignore. Despite the soft breeze coming through the open window, a familiar scent wafted through the air, derailing Koujaku’s train of thought.

Yeah, that’s definitely bacon.

Koujaku swung his legs over the side of the bed before standing, arching his back and curling his fingers while the muscles stretched. He ran his fingers through his silky, though noticeably unkept hair as he continued down the hallway, yawning loudly as he turned the corner. To his surprise, his favorite ray of sunshine was standing over the stove with a spatula in his hand. Koujaku frowned for a moment, wondering why exactly he was so surprised. Who else would it be? He’d gotten around a bit, but none of his past lovers would break into his house and make him breakfast. At least, he hoped not. Seeing Aoba’s smiling face every morning was surprising, no matter how long it had been since they decided to bite the bullet and moved in together. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest every morning next to Aoba, it was all so unreal.

Somehow Aoba hadn’t noticed him yet, concentrating on the meal he was trying to prepare. His hair was getting long again, seamlessly draped down his neck in a loose ponytail. Koujaku’s shock at the sight hadn’t subsided at all. Aoba had not only woken up before him, but was completely dressed. That's quite impressive, considering his usual struggle to remove himself from bed.

Slowly striding across the kitchen, he reached Aoba and wrapped his arms around the other’s waist. Aoba jumped, bracing his hands against the edge of the stove.

“Koujaku! Don’t sneak up on me like that! I'll punch you on reflex one of these days..."

“Hm? But it looks like you were expecting me.”

Before he could respond, Koujaku nuzzled his face into the crook of the other’s neck. He breathed happily against the soft skin, pressing gentle kisses against it as Aoba scoffed, but didn't resist the affection.

“You’re cooking for me? What’s the occasion?”

Aoba nudged him away, to no avail. "Not everything I do is for you, I just wanted to make breakfast.”

"You’re bad at lying.”

“… Huh?”

“You wouldn’t get up early unless there were a reason, Aoba. Actually..... sometimes you don't even wake up when you _do_ have a reason. I didn’t know you were this passionate about making yourself breakfast."

“You… cant stop saying stupid things for two seconds...." A light blush rises to the younger man’s cheeks as he pouts, thoroughly embarrassed in his defeat. Distracted, he continues to stir and sear the food in front of him.  
Koujaku lifts his head and gently nibbles on an ear, clearly hearing a startled intake of air pass Aoba’s lips. “Am I wrong?”

Aoba couldn’t even see the smirk that asshole had, but he knew it was there. Koujaku loved embarrassing him, loved every second of it. As angry as that made him, there were more pressing emotions to handle at the moment. As Koujaku continued liking and biting at his ear, he felt his lips beginning to quiver at the provocation. He opened his mouth and struggled to speak around the lump in his throat, words hushed and shaky as they exited. “I just.... wanted to distract myself for a while, okay? It's not-" His sentence is cut off as a hot tongue drags across his neck, pulling his focus further away from his cooking.

“Distract? From what?” Koujaku barely had enough time to ask before his tongue trailed back down to Aoba’s shoulder, sloppily kissing at the base of his neck. He was using that low voice again, that husky, lust filled voice that drove Aoba crazy. He's pulling that shit out this early in the morning? That's not fair.

“Don’t… try to make me say it, embarrassing goddamn hippo." He felt a hand lift under his shirt and slowly trace up his stomach, long gentle fingers tickling his skin as they progressed. He grabbed the edge of the stove in an attempt to brace himself before quickly pulling away with a loud yelp. Aoba held his finger to his face, examining it closely as he tried to shake the burning feeling out through his fingertips. He grit his teeth and grimaced as the hand left his stomach and grabbed his shoulder instead.

“Be careful. Did you burn yourself?”

“… Myself? You’re the reason it happened!” He quickly turned the burners off and spun around to face his tattooed boyfriend, which he regretted immediately. The look on his face must have been pitiful, full of embarrassment and still bright red from the provocation. Without thinking, he stuck his burnt finger in his mouth in an attempt to dull the hot sensation. His tongue rolled over the wound as he groaned in frustration, finally deciding to look back up at the other.

“Don’t do that, you’ll only make it worse.”

Aoba pouted in response, speaking around the finger in his mouth. “Too bad. You're the one who burnt me, so you don't get to say anything."

Koujaku grabbed at the arm and lowered it, forcing the finger out of Aoba’s mouth. “You're too cute, you know that? You're killing me here."

The defiant expression on Aoba’s face fell into more embarrassment as he averted his gaze. “Honestly... you're so stupid." Nothing else was said before Aoba pulled the man closer and their lips joined, quickly turning into passionate kisses that stirred both of them back up again. Fingers ran through his blue hair, gently massaging lose strands as they fell out of the tie in back. Most of the feeling in his hair had disappeared, but Koujaku’s fingers never failed to send a light, pleasant sensation through his spine. Moaning though each breath, he wrapped his arms around the larger man’s shoulders and closed the space between their bodies. The stimuli was getting to him, electric sensations jolting down to his hips. With their bodies so close, he couldn’t hide the response.

Koujaku stopped their kisses long enough to look into his eyes, an almost desperate look on his face. "Aoba…”

He wanted an answer. Every time things got this far, Koujaku took a moment to make sure Aoba wanted to continue. The thought made Aoba shudder, he knew exactly why Koujaku was so hesitant. Even after all this time, he can’t forget the incident at Glitter. Of course, neither can Aoba. It's a stain on their past that they try to avoid at all costs. Aoba doesn't blame him, he knows he wasn't in control of what happened... but Koujaku is clearly still haunted by it; the memory of hurting someone precious to him, a blurred reality viewed in second person. It’s happened to him so many times in the past, If only he could forget just this once. If Aoba could make him forget all of his sins, if just for a little while, it was worth it. Aoba shook the thought away and tried to steady his breath, the only word he could manage was, “Please…”

Before he can comprehend what happened, Aoba was sitting on the counter. In the heat of the moment, he grabs at his own shirt and tugs it off roughly, throwing it to the floor. Koujaku kisses down his bare chest, wrapping his hands around the smaller man's waist. The sensation was too much, he bit his lip to stifle the light gasps escaping between his lips. Aoba had felt so sensitive today, all of this playing around was wearing him down. From the moment he woke up, there had been an intense feeling throughout his entire body. He thought that making a big breakfast would distract him enough, though it clearly didn’t distract his partner. Koujaku’s tongue flicked over his nipple, and Aoba’s voice cries out in response. He couldn’t wait anymore, the pressure building in his loins made him squirm. He just needed some friction, a little stimulation, _anything_. “K-Koujaku! This is...”

Koujaku seems to get the message and blindly fumbles with the other's belt, too engrossed in licking and sucking at his chest to give full attention to the mechanism. It eventually clanked to the floor, pants and boxers following shortly after. This position was strange, there's nothing for Aoba to do except sit there and hold onto the edge of the counter. He’d been made into a plaything again, on display for his admiring boyfriend. Not that he had anything against being played with, he just never knew what to do with himself during things like this. He felt helpless, and Koujaku was always so eager to do all the work. Hot breath lingered over his dick, he hadn’t noticed Koujaku’s head get so low…

Oh.

“Wait..! You don’t need to-“

It was no use, Aoba held his breath as he felt a soft kiss land on the head of his cock. Determined eyes stared back up at him, a smile tugging at the lips below them. Not long after, short licks teased every inch of his erection before finally taking him in. Aoba rolled his head back, nearly slamming it against the cupboards behind him. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was almost scary how good Koujaku was getting at this. To think he had no experience with men before, but picked up on this so quickly.... the guy's good with his mouth, what can Aoba say other than that. It pissed him off how good Koujaku was at stuff like this. He was slowly learning Aoba’s body, remembering ticklish spots and sensitive flesh, information to be used at his disposal. The better Koujaku became at this, the more he wanted to do it. It had become an endless cycle of ‘practice makes perfect’, shamelessly bathing in the pride of every successful attempt.  
A tongue slowly dragged across the soft tissue under the head of Aoba’s dick, immediately granting a loud moan in response. There it was again, the look in Koujaku’s eyes that made Aoba want to punch him right in the face. He knows what makes Aoba's legs shake. and he’s getting a kick out of it. The speed increased suddenly, a dark head of hair taking in his full length. He placed a shaky hand in the hair, lightly gripping at the strands in his palm. Koujaku's mouth was so warm, it was heating the nerves from his head to his toes. Pressure was steadily building in his hips, twinges of pleasure sending him over the edge.

“Kou… jaku, I'm gonna...” His hands dart up to cover his face, trying to keep this indecent sight from drawing him closer to release. Doing it like this, in the middle of Koujaku’s kitchen… He felt so lewd just thinking about it, let alone watching it happen. Each movement drew him closer until the pressure suddenly subsided, leaving an unsatisfying twinge of desire in its place. He was breathless and frustrated by this point, sliding the hands down his face. “I didn’t mean… for you to stop.” His glare was only met with a smile in return, turning into a small laugh.

“Sorry, sorry.” Koujaku kissed his inner thigh lightly, eye contact only breaking for mere seconds as he did so. His smile was met with more frustrated glares, a whine coming to Aoba’s lips.

“You’re teasing me again…”

“I can’t help it, you’re adorable when you’re all worked up like this.”

“Don’t get a nosebleed again, idiot.”

“Aaoooobaa.”

It hadn’t happened since their first time, but why would Aoba let it go? It’s a pretty effective leash to yank back on when Koujaku gets too cocky. Aoba leans forward and wraps his arms around the large tattooed shoulders in front of him, breathing steadily into the other’s ear. “Koujaku.”

"Hm?” He hummed happily

“I said please.”

Koujaku quickly pulled away, surprised by the sudden turn in Aoba’s voice. He really was desperate today, wasn’t he? A rushed voice responded, “Wait here.” Koujaku jogged away and into the hallway, turning a corner and losing Aoba’s sight. Aoba didn’t quite know what to do, sitting in such an indecent way on the counter. He had barely calmed down from before, his ears felt like they were going to burst into flames. Subconsciously hiding his shame, he reached for a neatly folded apron across the counter and draped it over his lap. His heart jumped as an idea sparked through his head, however embarrassed it made him feel. He leaned forward to check for his lover in the hallway, grabbing onto the cloth tightly in anticipation. Swallowing his pride, he lifted a strap over his head and draped the apron over his chest, reaching back to tie it in place. As Aoba fumbled with the loose straps, Koujaku rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks.

“… Aoba, you’re really killing me.” Koujaku had returned with a small plastic bottle in his hand. Ah, so that’s what he was getting. Aoba arched his back and let out a quiet whine, legs curling upward invitingly. Within seconds, Koujaku was taking long strides toward him with a completely flushed face. He must have been enjoying the view, that look on his face was almost dangerous. Their lips clasped together in a heated rush, tongues rolling over lips and teeth lightly nipping at each other. Aoba was practically shaking now, he’d been waiting for far too long. He wrapped his legs around the other and rocked his hips, gasping for breath between passionate kisses.

"Hurry…” He's quickly lifted off of the counter, firm hands holding his legs as Koujaku swung around, coming to rest on the kitchen table. Koujaku began to push the younger man’s back against the table, which was met with a hand signifying him to stop.

“Aoba…” A confused and slightly disappointed look spread across Koujaku’s face. To his surprise, Aoba pivots his body and grabs the table underneath him to readjust, ass poking out lewdly in front of Koujaku.

The apron shifted to one side underneath him, the cold wood of the table pressing against his bare chest and causing a shiver to run down his spine. The position was hard and uncomfortable, but the feeling of being bent over something like this… Koujaku was always too gentle to take him like this, but then again, Aoba’s never suggested it before. Sure, they've done it in all types of positions, but definitely not over a table. He tilted his hips up, grinding them against the other with a pleading moan.

“A-Aoba, what’s gotten into you today?”

“You’re… taking too long! No more teasing, just...." His cheek stuck to the table as he peered back, panting with a mix of exchitement and mortification. He wanted to stop acting like this, but he’d already sunk too far. Even if this little performance was embarrassing, if he stopped now, Koujaku might not get the message. A faint popping sound caught Aoba’s attention as he tilted his head further, barely able to see past his own shoulder. He recognized the sound, it was the cap to the small plastic bottle of lube that Koujaku had brought with him.

Finally, now we’re getting somewhere.

Something wet and cold prodded at his entrance, the sensation causing a short intake of breath. No matter how many times they’d done this, it always felt strange. Aoba braced himself against the table in preparation, sweaty palms sticking to the finish. A finger slipped inside, gently twisting and probing around to loosen his inner walls. His body slowly adjusted to the foreign object, allowing another finger to enter. He bit the back of his hand, trying to hold his trembling voice from pouring out. Koujaku’s long fingers twisted and scissored inside of him, preparing his entrance for what would inevitably follow. The fingers slowly slid out, replaced by something both hard and hot sliding its way inside. He couldn’t help but cry out as it came to a stop, fully engulfed inside of him.

“Ah, Koujaku!”

Koujaku let out a low grunt in response, looming over the other’s back. “Too tight?” A strained laugh fills the air as he gently strokes the blue hair in front of him. “I thought I was taking too long.”

“S-Shut it.” Aoba clenches his fists and lightly tilts his hips upward, urging Koujaku to continue.

Instead, Koujaku stays still and asks, "Really, is it too tight?"

Aoba rolled his eyes, though Koujaku wouldn't be able to see it in this position. He answers, "It's fine." With that, the movement began slowly, hands firmly gripping on his waist to steady him. As he rocked back and forth, the edge of the table began to rub against a tender area. Just as it began to get painful, a hand wrapped around him and guided his erection downward, slipping under the table. The sudden touch caused a rush of pleasure, precome slicking under the hand as it began pumping up and down. Koujaku’s thrusts steadily increased in speed, eventually synching rhythm with the hand gliding over Aoba’s length.

“Aoba…” Hot breath pelted his neck as Koujaku leaned closer, the pleasant warmth hanging over his back. The uncomfortable pain of Koujaku inside of him slowly faded, turning into pleasure. Slight twinges ran through his scalp and down his spine when Koujaku buried his face in his lover’s hair, lightly kissing around his upper back and shoulders. The feeling was distant and pleasant, not nearly as overpowering as it had been in the past. During moments like this, Aoba couldn’t help but wonder if the feeling in his hair had decreased to normal standards. He had no definite gauge of what hair was supposed to feel like, there was no way of knowing if this sensation was ‘normal’. He’d discussed it at length with Koujaku before, ending in frustration as neither of them could successfully describe the feeling.

Pressure was swelling in his hips, his knees beginning to shake in response. All of his weight rested on the table, his entire lower half felt completely limp in the pleasure. Aoba knew his body’s limits, and he was certain that it couldn’t take much more at this pace. He finally cried out, unable to hold his voice any longer.

“Koujaku! I’m- I’m gonna…!”

Koujaku’s unoccupied hand quickly reached past Aoba’s head, firmly grasping the first hand it could get ahold of. Aoba returned his grip tightly as the pressure in his hips spilled over Koujaku’s hand, chest heaving from the sudden release.

“Aoba…. Aoba…. I love you.”

Koujaku panted heavily into his neck, increasing speed until abruptly coming to a stop deep inside of the other. Aoba felt a familiar warmth filling him, letting out quiet breathy moans against the table as Koujaku’s dick twitched inside.

“… Me too.”

They stayed in silence for a moment, only their heaving breath filling the air around them. The larger man pressed his lips against the other’s neck, breath tickling the skin. Koujaku slowly pulled out, grabbing Aoba’s wrists as he slid down the table.

“Oi, Aoba… You okay?”

The only response he received was an exhausted grunt. Koujaku couldn’t help but smile as he embraces Aoba and quickly swings him up into his arms, taking them to the bedroom. The first time Koujaku had tried to carry him bridal style like this, he got a swift kick to the jaw and immediately dropped Aoba as a knee-jerk response. Since then, Aoba had learned to swallow his pride for just a few seconds if it meant he didn't have to walk himself to bed.

When they arrive in the bedroom, Aoba was carefully tossed onto the mattress. Koujaku leaned in and playfully rubbed the other’s knee before speaking. “So much for getting up early, eh? I’ll go clean up, you rest.”

“Koujaku.”

He spun around in response, already half way out of the doorway. “Huh?”

Aoba fidgeted in place, eyes sinking down to examine the apron still draped over him. “Your apron.”

“What about it?”

He sat up and fumbled with the straps in an attempt to pry the soiled thing off. “I made it dirty… sorry.”

 “Aoba, that wasn’t my first intention when I bought the thing, but it’s definitely not something to be sorry abou-“ Before he could finish, a balled up piece of cloth hit him in the face. “What the hell was that for?”

“You said you were cleaning up.”

Koujaku began laughing as he picked the cloth up and continued through the doorway. Aoba heard him murmur something along the lines of, ‘you’re lucky you’re so cute’ as he left. Ignoring that comment, he stood up and surveyed the ground for something to cover himself with. Deciding on a stray kimono of Koujaku’s, he wrapped it around his body and flung himself back into bed. With the smell surrounding him, it was almost embarrassing just how comforting it all was. He felt safe with Koujaku’s scent next to him, even if Koujaku’s body was in the next room over. He’d always been able to take care of himself, why was he suddenly craving this protection? Sure, Koujaku saved him a few times when they were kids, but things had changed since then. He buried his nose in the cloth, slowly breathing in as a warm feeling washed over him.

Even if he didn’t need it, Koujaku would protect him.

Suddenly, a memory barged into Aoba’s head. In mere seconds, his entire thought process skid to a halt.

The image lingered in his mind, replaying from a distance. He could feel the sensations as he looked on, watching himself writhe like a worm. If only there weren’t so many people around him, if only he could stand and defend himself properly. He just needed to get up, make a move and keep fighting. Anything, he needed to do anything except for what he was doing. He couldn’t change the outcome, couldn’t struggle more or move a certain way, not even in this repeating world inside his own head. Aoba had tried to change it many times, to imagine an alternate reality where things turned out differently. The image looped over and over, each repeat seemed to give him another disgusting, helpless view of the situation.  
Cigarette smoke filled the air around him, snapping him back into the moment. Koujaku shook his head and laughed, taking a long drag before continuing, “Now that I think about it, I’m pretty hungry.” The tattooed man was sitting next to him on the bed, looking content as ever.

When did he come back? And how long had he been sitting there?  
"That’s your fault, I was the one trying to cook you something." He subconsciously placed a hand over his eyes, a heavy sigh slowly pouring out from his lips.

A dirty room, three men overpowering him and one looking on. This round was silent, no sensations plagued him as he watched himself squirm once again. Aoba didn’t think about any of this very often, he didn’t have reason to. Thinking about what you could’ve done differently in the past is a waste of time, especially when the only real victim was yourself. It really wasn’t a big deal, why make it into one? If he could just fight off these memories and the sinking feeling that accompanied them, everything would have gone back to normal.

Wait, what? Why was he thinking about this all of a sudden? Maybe because he was reminded of the Glitter incident, but... that was different. None of this matters. After all, it really wasn’t a big deal.

“What’s wrong? You’re not getting headaches again, are you?” Koujaku’s voice snapped him back into reality yet again, the short cigarette already balancing on an ashtray. Aoba’s bangs were lifted up as the back of Koujaku’s hand rested against his forehead. Aoba shrugged him off, shaking his head to the question.

Koujaku nestled into bed, supporting the back of his head with his folded arms. He hummed, “You seem pretty out of it, I’ll take it as a compliment.” Aoba knew exactly what he was getting at. Koujaku was hopelessly romantic, always clinging to his lover and whispering into his ear after sex. Aoba didn’t usually mind, but the sinking feeling in his gut made him loath the idea. He didn’t particularly feel threatened by the touches, and he honestly wanted nothing more than to just drop it and give into Koujaku’s persistent cooing, but the thoughts swirling in his head would keep him from fully enjoying the company.

_It really wasn’t a big deal._

Finally deciding to give in, Aoba rolled into the warm body next to him and rested his head on the other’s chest. Koujaku was oddly quiet compared to usual, most likely sensing Aoba’s reluctance. Koujaku lowered one of his arms and wrapped it around the smaller’s torso, a self-satisfied smile tugging at his lips. He got his way, and he was damn proud of it. The two lay in silence for what seems like hours, only the sound of a steady heartbeat filling Aoba’s ears. The silent company would have been appreciated on any other day, any day that these vicious thoughts didn’t cloud Aoba’s mind.

Today, however, the silence was maddening. Aoba was keeping a secret, one that he never felt necessary to share. He wasn’t just keeping a secret from his significant other, he was keeping a secret from his childhood friend, the one he’d relied on like a big brother. Aoba contemplated all of this as an anxiousness swelled in his the throat, forming a lump that was nearly impossible to speak around.

If it really wasn’t a big deal, why was he practically shaking?

He slowly inhaled, planning his words in advance. “Koujaku.”

"Hm?"

"I think I lied to you."

Koujaku’s seemed amused to finally get a response, talking in an elevated pitch as he glanced over.

“Lied? About what?”

Aoba hesitated, contemplating whether or not he should continue. The guilt washing over him was already relentless, backing out now would be a mistake. He felt guilty for never coming clean, but he also felt incredibly petty for even thinking about all this in the first place. Noticing how long he’d hesitated, Aoba speaks up again. “A while back. You asked me if you were my first, remember?”

Koujaku’s face immediately fell as he sat up, rubbing the back of his head. He cleared his throat before speaking, an obvious nervousness in his voice as he responded, “Ah… Don’t worry about it.”

Aoba grabbed his arm and pulled at it, a determined look on his face. “I  _will_ worry about it. You need to know.” His gaze fell to the bed sheets, arms sinking into his lap as he continued, “I didn’t think about it like that, so I didn’t really…”

“Aoba-”

He quickly cut off Koujaku’s response. “I didn’t think about it like that, like a first time.” Aoba leaned against the headboard as he spoke, staring at the ceiling. “That’s why I didn’t know I was lying. I keep trying to forget about it, I thought if I pretended that it didn’t happen…” His words trailed off, eyes slowly closing. “I thought if I could forget about what they did, everything would go back to normal.”

Koujaku gripped his shoulders, forcing his eyes open at the sudden movement. Aoba stared at the other in confusion before reading the anger on Koujaku’s face. His face was more intense than Aoba had ever seen it, but the voice coming out of it was calm and collected. “Who were they?”

“…Eh?” Aoba had understood the question completely, but was still in utter shock from Koujaku’s face. He’d clearly been able to guess what Aoba was talking about, but this sort of response… He almost regretted telling Koujaku immediately.

“Aoba, who were they?”

As hard as he tried to avoid answering, the determined look in Koujaku’s eyes were prying at him. He looked down to avoid eye contact as he answered, voice barely audible.

“Scratch.”


	2. Street Fighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Koujaku decides to go drinking to get his mind off of Aoba needing protection.
> 
> ... And then Aoba needs protection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect to get so much positive feedback so early! Thank you!
> 
> Wowza, split perspective! This kind of thing is going to happen a lot, but they'll be split into separate chapters from here on out.

Another long day of work.

After Aoba had moved in, Koujaku started cutting hair full time. Not that he wanted to spend more time at work, he simply felt more stable with Aoba at home and work to return to in the morning. That was the thing about Aoba, his stability somehow always kept Koujaku in check.

His hands rhythmically snipped at the head of hair below him, agile fingers gliding under each strand. Letting out a deep sigh and forced smile as he finished, the woman clapped her hands excitedly in the mirror. It wasn’t too terrible, but it definitely wasn’t his best work. The sinking feeling in his gut had lasted all day, and was beginning to negatively affect his business.

"Kou~jaku-san! Thank yooou!" The woman hopped out of her seat excitedly, petting at her freshly styled hair. She swiveled on her toes and hugged him tightly, other jealous women in line gasping at the sight.

"Ah, no problem." Usually he’d play it up more, but he couldn’t get that sinking feeling off of his mind. He and Aoba had decided to keep their relationship from the public, or at least away from Koujaku’s adoring fans. They were starting slowly, only telling a few important friend and family members. With his fans in complete ignorance of his relationship status, he’d be able to comfortably support himself on the hopeful tips alone, especially on days like this where his most loyal female fans were already lined at the door before opening. Today, however, he couldn’t keep up the act.

After announcing his early departure to the eager line of women and eventually coaxing them out of the door (despite the desperate please for “just one more!” he received), Koujaku grabbed a broom and began sweeping the ground below. After a few sweeps, he let out a sigh and stared at himself in the mirror, slowly leaning on the broomstick. A clock ticked in the background as he dazed into the reflection, nearly forgetting to blink. His eyes shifted to his wrist, a sudden urge tugging at his heart as the sinking feeling deepened in his gut.

_You promised you wouldn’t._

He brought his wrist to his face, opening his coil to scroll through the contacts. The screen rested over Aoba’s name, a surprised and blurry photo of the blue haired man next to the ID. He’d taken the picture when Aoba wasn’t expecting it, claiming to ‘want his natural cuteness just a click away’. Not deleting the picture was one of the only things Koujaku had ever truly lied about to Aoba’s face.

_You promised you wouldn’t._

Ignoring the voice in his head, he hesitantly calls up Aoba’s coil. Each unanswered ring sank like a stone in his stomach until the line finally connected.

“Koujaku.”

A confused whine sounded in his throat when he heard the voice on the other end, “… Ren?”

“Aoba instructed me to answer your calls. He’s currently working.”

“Is it because he’s working, or because I’m the one calling?”

After a moment of silence, a frustrated grunt sounded through the speaker as heavy footsteps approached. The sound distorted a few times while the line transferred from Ren to Aoba’s personal coil. “Tell Beni that he owes me ¥1000.”

Trying to hide how relieved he was to hear Aoba’s voice, Koujaku responded, “Beni? My Allmate doesn’t have any money.”

“Well, he better get some. I just won a bet.”

He’d promised not to call Aoba for the day unless it was an emergency. After their discussion about the Scratch incident, Koujaku became painfully aware of what was happening during his missed calls. The entire time Aoba had been missing, Koujaku was trying desperately to get ahold of him, and had failed terribly. A low grunt escaped his lips as he realized what the bet had been about. “I’m sorry.”

“Koujaku.”

He debated hanging up, thoroughly embarrassed to have given in this easily. He’d never hang up on Aoba, but the thought crossed his mind regardless. He began, “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

A short silence lingered between them, nearly crushing Koujaku’s pride. He had no idea what body language or face Aoba was putting on, no indication of how petty he sounded to the other. The voice on the other end finally responded, “I can take care of myself; I don’t need you to worry about me.”

“I know.”

More silence hung in the air, cut off by Aoba’s hurried words, “Haga-san needs me to make a delivery. I’ll be home at the usual time, so no checking up on me. Promise?”

Koujaku hesitated before responding, debating the probability that he’d also break this promise as soon as it’s made. He half-heartedly answers, “Yeah, promise.”

The line cuts off before Koujaku can properly say goodbye, leaving him completely unfulfilled. Though Aoba’s tone was one to keep Koujaku’s worry at bay, he could tell how annoyed it was deep down. He needed time for it all to sink in, asking him not to worry seemed impossible.

He was set up to fail.

Glancing at the time, he realized just how early he’d closed up shop. Three hours early, in fact. Aoba had a hard time waking up in the morning, meaning he usually worked later shifts. Going home to an empty house would only make it worse, probably even drive him insane with anticipation. Sighing softly, he flicked the head of a small red cardinal resting on the counter. “Don’t go making bets behind my back.”

The small bird powered on, immediately annoyed by the flick. “You only know because you lost!”

Koujaku smiled lightly, the familiar spitfire attitude lifting his spirits. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m upset that you didn’t bet on the winning team, that’s all.”

Beni flew above his head and quickly perched on his shoulder, nestling into the fabric of his kimono. Keeping Beni around during work hours was usually a bad idea, so he sat idly on the counter most days. The girls thought he was cute, but he’d get riled up if someone misbehaved in line. After the last fight with an irritable boyfriend (which Beni so conveniently escalated), Koujaku had decided to power him down during the day. Fights would never be a problem for a Rib leader like himself to handle, but the most recent scuffle had caused significant damage to the interior of his small shop. Beni had been in a form of ‘timeout’ since then, having nearly pecked the man’s ear off.

Koujaku stared back towards the mirror in contemplation before leaning the broom against a wall. He needed to get out, to get his mind off of things. The more he thought about it, the more he desperately needed a drink. Scrolling through his coil contacts once again, he hovered over a few names before continuing down the list. He debated inviting Beni-shigure members out, but quickly decided against it. A large group of rowdy guys wasn’t something he wanted to handle today, especially not being responsible for getting them drunk. The screen stopped over another contact, forming an energetic smile across Koujaku’s face as he read the name.

When was the last time he went drinking with Mizuki? Hell, when was the last time he _saw_ Mizuki at all? Before Oval Tower, they’d go drinking and looking for fights nearly every weekend. Though they lead opposing Rib teams, Koujaku’s always been inviting to other teams as a show of good faith. Rib was more of a recreational sport for their teams instead of a constant turf war, anyway. Since the fall of Oval Tower, they’ve been more distant than Koujaku wanted to admit. He felt bad about the neglect, now that he thought about it. He quickly locked the door behind him, walking down the street with newfound purpose.

 

* * *

 

 

A deep sigh passed Aoba’s lips as he placed the phone back on its hanger. He had a long shift at Heibon today, and there hadn’t been many customers to entertain him. Thankfully, his voice had become less and less alluring to strange callers, making the average conversation much more bearable. On days like this, he’d usually lean back in his chair and flick through some websites until the next customer showed up. He crossed his legs and placed them on the counter with a thud, bringing his wrist up and opening his coil. Checking his messages first, his heart skipped a beat when the screen loaded.

_Not a single new message from Koujaku. No calls, either._

Aoba had told him not to, but had expected him to slip up and send _something_. After their discussion yesterday morning, Koujaku was a complete mess. The look of total anguish on his face will be burned into Aoba’s mind for god knows how long. Knowing how protective his boyfriend would become after hearing the full story, Aoba made him promise not to bother with checkups during the day. Koujaku would usually send a few reassuring messages regardless, which obviously didn’t grace his inbox today.

_Did this mean Koujaku was trying too hard not to send anything? Maybe telling him not to check in was a mistake…_

“Aoba,” said a low voice from his bag. He reached in and pulled out a dark blue ball of fur, placing it on his lap.

“Let me guess; I’m thinking too hard?”

“You appear to be overthinking something, yes.”

Aoba began petting at the small dog, smiling at the strange form of comfort Ren always provided. He hesitated before asking, “Ren, what do you think? Was I too hard on him?”

“If you’re questioning it, that’s possible.”

Aoba stopped his petting and stared down at Ren. “You…”

“Did you not want my opinion?”

“I was expecting something a little more comforting.”

He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the counter as Ren jumped to the floor. Holding his chin in his palm, he looked toward the dog now sitting by his feet. “What’s that look for? Spill it.”

“I have valuable information about Koujaku, though you may not like it.”

His head lifted out of his palm, a sudden interest sparked in his eyes. “Information? About Koujaku?” His thoughts scattered in a hundred different directions.

“Before leaving this morning, he watched you sleeping for about an hour.”

Aoba immediately sat upright and gripped the chair, embarrassed. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“You wanted something comforting, it seemed like an act of love.”

Glaring down, the flustered blue haired man responded, “Just how many ‘acts of love’ have you witnessed!?” They both silently decided it was better not to answer that question. “If he calls, you’re answering it.”

Ren gave an understanding nod as he trotted around the counter, sitting patiently on a box of supplies. Aoba watched him before sinking back into his chair, exhausted at his own thought process. He just needed to calm down and stop overthinking it, getting distracted like this wouldn’t help anything. Deciding to preoccupy himself, he stood up and slid a large box off of the shelf and onto the counter. Filing was usually Haga’s job, but the help couldn’t hurt either of them at this point. He flipped the lid and rested it against the box as he reached in, grabbing at a handful of folders. As he slid the alphabetized paperwork into the correct folders, a small voice sounded on the other side of the counter.

"Koujaku."

Aoba leaned to the side and peered around the box, questioning Ren. “What now?” The small dog was staring at a wall, completely unfocused on Aoba’s line of questioning.

_What the…_

"Aoba instructed me to answer your calls. He’s currently working.”

He’d already nearly forgotten his request for Ren to answer Koujaku’s call. It seemed somewhat demeaning, now that he thought about it. He quickly motioned to cut the call, embarrassed in his own behavior. Ren eventually noticed his rapidly flailing arms, only to stare back at him without understanding a single queue. Aoba groaned as he stood back up, walking towards his Allmate. Holding Ren in his arms, he fiddled with his coil until the call transferred.

“Tell Beni that he owes me ¥1000.”

The voice on the other end answered after short hesitation, “Beni? My Allmate doesn’t have any money.”

“Well, he better get some. I just won a bet.”

Koujaku was quiet for a moment, a disappointed grunt accompanying his reply. “I’m sorry.”

Aoba took a deep breath, attempting to remain calm. Koujaku _had_ been worrying about him the entire time. As thoughtful as that was, he couldn’t help but be slightly irritated about it. If this habit started now, it’d be hard to break. He was sure to use a soothing voice as he started, “Koujaku.”

“I just wanted to hear your voice.”

He was taken aback by the answer, nearly stuttering something completely incoherent. His face began to burn red as he tried to think what to say. _‘You’re a sappy idiot’_ , came to mind. Aoba finally got a grip on himself and continued, trying to sound firm despite how hard it was to stay angry at that voice. “I can take care of myself; I don’t need you to worry about me.”

"I know."

Just as Aoba was about to say something comforting, the shop door opened. Haga stood on the other side with a smile, holding a small cardboard box. He hastily spoke into the coil on his wrist, covering his lips, “Haga-san needs me to make a delivery. I’ll be home at the usual time, so no checking up on me. Promise?”

"Yeah, Promise."

Aoba could swear he heard Koujaku say something else before hanging up, but the line had already disconnected before he could check. Something about the conversation left him in a sour mood, even though nothing had gone terribly wrong. Should he feel guilty for the stern way he was addressing this? Or be upset at Koujaku? Just like that, he was overthinking everything again. He hurriedly placed Ren into his bag and flung it over his shoulder before dashing towards the door. Haga gave him a knowing smile as he grabbed the box, checking the address printed on top to avoid eye contact. Aoba had told Haga about the relationship quite some time ago, but the embarrassment of being caught on the phone with his boyfriend during work never faded.

He stepped outside and immediately squinted at the bright sun blaring down on Midorijima. It had been unusually warm lately, and the sun glaring off of cars and street signs was making everyone irritable. Aoba continued down the street as he shielded his eyes, glancing down at the small box again. The address was located in the Western District, as usual. The walk from the East to the West District wasn’t the shortest, but the fresh air would help clear Aoba’s head. Ren poked his head out of the bag and barked directions, Aoba following without question. Countless people passed as the small dog directed them in and out of alleys, being sure to use the fastest route possible. The streets were run down and dirty, particularly in the narrow alleyways and side streets. Being raised in the Old Resident District, it never really bothered Aoba. Even after staying in Platinum Jail, the grungy streets had a somewhat nostalgic appeal. They slipped into another seemingly endless alleyway, surveying the walls towering over them as they walked.

Two men leaned against a distant wall, snickering to themselves as Aoba passed. He didn’t think much of it, young people hanging around the residential part of town wasn’t abnormal. The figures pushed away from the wall and started trailing behind him, nudging each other playfully as they caught up. The footsteps echoed in the dark space, pushing his lingering anxiety over the edge.

“Hey, you.”

_Oh, crap. Not right now._

“We’re talkin’ to you, asshole.”

Aoba sighed as his feet stopped, knowing it was a bad idea to engage them. He quickly turned around, waving a dismissive hand at the men while walking backwards. His voice was obviously nervous as he countered their advances, “Look, I don’t have time for this. I’m on the clock.” They snickered at each other again, one of them grabbing at Aoba’s coat. He tried to brush the arm off, but was instead pulled closer to the group. One of the men took the package, examining it before tossing it aside. “Hey!-“ His air was cut off by a swift hit to the stomach, making him double over in the unexpected pain.

“You don’t look like a Beni-shigure, you new or somethin’?”

The air returned to his lungs as he struggled against the grip on his arm, desperate to just leave the situation. He coughed as he answered, “Beni- what? I’m not in Beni-shigure!”

One of the men clicked his tongue in response, shaking his head from side to side. “What a coward.”

The other laughed and added, “Let’s give him a proper initiation, then.”

Aoba fell to the hard cement as one of the men pummeled him repeatedly. With them having the upper hand and throwing the first punch, there wasn’t much he could do. A fist crashed against his cheek, causing the distinct taste of blood to fill his mouth. He cried out and managed to land a hit on the man towering over him, granting him a kick to the ribs from the other. The blood in his mouth splattered against the ground as he coughed, curled over on his side. As his eyelids grew heavy, the dots finally connected in his head.

_He spends so much time with Koujaku and his teammates that he looks like a member of Beni-shigure. So these people must be… part of a rival Rib team? Has Rib always been this dangerous?_

Aoba’s heavy eyes shot open when one of the men grabbed at his bag now lying on the ground. He reached his arm out and shouted, “Ren! Don’t touch him!” As the man looked through the bag and tossed belongings to the ground, it became obvious that Ren had hopped out at some point. Something tugged at one of his wrists as he began to nod off, his body shutting down from the exhaustion. The man tossed his empty bag down as his partner landed a final kick on the now bloody and bruised Aoba. Hurried footsteps scattered down the alleyway as his consciousness faded, barely able to tell if the ordeal was over from the sharp pain still plaguing his body.

_No._

Slowly sliding his hands against the concrete to brace himself, he winced as his arm muscles strained.

_Get up. Get up. Don’t fall asleep here._

He managed to prop himself on his knees and survey the area, seeing no sign of the package or his Allmate. Wiping the blood off of his chin, a small whimper escaped his lips. Ren might have run off to get help, but he can’t wait here for long. He needed to get home, to a hospital, anywhere but this cold, dirty, blood stained alley. He grabbed at his wrist, fingers fumbling through the empty space his coil once possessed. The tugging must have been one of the Ribsters taking it off of him. He gradually steadied himself on two feet, shakily breathing in and out at a steady pace. Scooping what remained back into his empty bag and tossing it over his shoulder, he limped back out toward the street.

As the bright sunlight invaded his blurry vision, Aoba realized just how completely lost he was. Before he could think of a plan, the sidewalk smacked him in the chin and the sunlight disappeared into darkness.


	3. Drunk Dial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Koujaku finally gets his drink with Mizuki, but things don't quite go as planned as the night spirals out of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the chapter everyone's been waiting for. Mizuki and Koujaku having DRUNK BRO TALK.
> 
> Sorry this took so long, I choose to blame it on being distracted by the Anime announcement hype. Hopefully the anime won't change anything major so the fic doesn't get all confuzzled between the game and the anime.

Waltzing into Dry Juice territory would seem intimidating to anyone else.

Not to say there’s no danger involved with walking down rival streets, things could get heated between teams at any moment. Dry Juice was quickly reclaiming members from Rhyme and growing into the largest team once again. After Oval Tower fell and Usui stopped appearing, Rhyme suffered a backlash of fear and uncertainty. The hype eventually faded and most Rhymers began joining fights again, leaving the still uneasy participants who turned over to Rib instead. Mizuki’s loyal teammates returned after his stay at the hospital and began repairing the damage, reclaiming members that had scurried away. Rib’s resurgence after the Rhyme scare seemed to have an effect on Mizuki’s recovery, his face beamed with restored faith after being discharged. Rhymers and Ribsteez still picked fights with each other regularly, showing that things had finally returned to normal.

Even with all of the new members, most of Dry Juice knew that Koujaku wasn’t an acceptable target. Going after a team leader was incredibly risky in the first place, layered onto the complex social circles around these two. Mizuki had strict rules about who not to pick fights with, and most of his team abided them. Regardless, there had been incidents in the past that got out of hand between Beni-shigure and Dry Juice members. Occasional fights between them weren’t frowned upon, since that was the entire point of Rib, but some teammates get heated and begin all out brawls.

It was… complicated.

As all of this rolled around in his head, Koujaku passed more and more groups of Dry Juice members. He was, after all, wandering deep into their territory. He approached a door he’d entered many times before, a small illuminated sign reading “The Black Needle” hanging over the door. Taking a short breath and placing his hand on the door, he slowly pushed it open and stepped through. Being the time of day it was, only a small group was huddled into a corner of the room, talking amongst themselves. Koujaku approached the small bar and braced his hands against it, seating himself on top of a tall stool. The figure behind the bar turned around, previously examining bottles of alcohol stacked against a shelf.

“Koujaku!”

“Yo, Mizuki.”

Mizuki crossed his arms and placed them on the bar, leaning against it. A large grin formed on his face as he asked, “How long has it been?”

“Too long.” Koujaku tucked his arms in and placed them on the bar, averting his gaze downward. “My bad.”

Turning on his heels, Mizuki riffled through the shelf behind him. While grabbing at bottles and glasses, he thoughtlessly shouted, “Aoba keeping you busy?”

Koujaku nearly fell off of his stool in response, his whole body tensing at the question. He quickly peered towards the group in the corner, who couldn’t care less about their conversation.  Leaning in, Koujaku embarrassingly muttered, “Not so loud!”

Amused, Mizuki struggled to choke down a laugh at his reaction. “Sorry, sorry. I forgot.” He placed two shot glass on the countertop and poured an unknown liquid into one, tipping the bottle back before leaving it within arm’s reach on the counter.

It was usually like this, Mizuki could read him pretty well. With just a glance, he’d be able to tell exactly what kind of drink Koujaku needed. Whether that came from years of experience as a bartender or from some unspoken bond between them wasn’t certain. Koujaku gripped the small glass and brought it to his lips, pausing before tipping it back. The liquor ran down his throat, leaving a warm, numbing sensation as it went. Whatever this was, it was strong. He let out a low grunt as he placed the glass back down on the bar, recovering from the shot. He had planned to get a drink from the start, but hadn’t hyped himself up enough to take it in so effortlessly. There’s a certain bitterness that comes with drinking to calm the nerves, and it never goes down quite as easy.

Mizuki tipped the bottle over again, filling the small glass. Examining the other, he asked, “Okay, what happened?”

“Hm?”

Vibrant emerald green eyes stared Koujaku down, interrogating him. Something about the look in this man’s eyes could make anyone confess to murder within seconds. As long as Koujaku had known him, Mizuki had a certain compassionate quality, but those eyes were so intimidating… Mizuki’s eyes narrowed as he detected Koujaku’s intimidation, arrogantly asking, “You got into a fight, didn’t you?”

Koujaku’s mind was completely blank, and his stare blatantly displayed it. Confused, he responded, “Fight? No more than usual.” He peered down and felt around his torso, searching for signs of pain before answering, “Do I look beaten up?”

Sighing, Mizuki gripped the bottle’s neck and dragged it closer, lifting it off the counter and tipping the liquor into the second glass. After pouring a rather generous amount and nearly overflowing the glass, he placed the bottle upright on the counter. Gripping the glass, he reiterated before quickly taking the shot. “With Aoba.”

Koujaku glared back at him, “What makes you think we got into a fight?”

“Well…”

“What?”

Maroon hair briskly shook side to side, following Mizuki’s rushed movements. “Eh, nevermind.”

“Mizuki.”

Holding his breath, Mizuki reluctantly let it out and argued, “Look, I’m not saying anything bad. Aoba’s great, I just wouldn’t want to date him.” he said the last part with a small laugh. “He’s pretty stubborn, and…” he paused, carefully chosen words following, “well, and you’re _here_.”

Koujaku straightened his back, overcompensating to fixing his posture. “I’ve been here plenty of times!”

Agitated, Mizuki brought his gloved hands between them. He counted on his fingers, making exaggerated movements as he listed. “Let’s see… When the _‘love of your life’_ went back to her previous boyfriend, when one of your members got attacked, that time you almost-“

Koujaku interrupted, “Alright, alright! I get it!” A low grunt accompanied his reply, admitting his defeat. He rolled his head back and took the second shot, which went down noticeably smoother than the first. Koujaku stared at the empty glass in his hand as it sat on the counter, eyes glazing over in thought. “When you got out of the hospital.”

Mizuki was in the middle of pouring yet another round into the glasses (hey… doesn’t it seem like they should slow down..?) when he caught Koujaku’s low voice. “What?”

Koujaku spoke up, looking up from the glass, “When you got out of the hospital; Aoba and me, we came here to celebrate.” He let out a small laugh, lips curling into a smile. “Don’t tell me that was a bad thing too?”

Pausing for a moment, Mizuki returned the smile. “You’re right.”

Koujaku’s eyes trailed towards the other’s neck, examining where large bandages had wrapped around several months prior. Mizuki had done his best to remove the Morphine tattoo that stained his skin, seeing countless specialists on and off of the island to get it removed. After a handful of procedures and a few more months of recovery, Mizuki’s neck bared a completely new mark. He’d not only faded the ink left on his skin by another, but reclaimed it. It was almost inspiring, though Koujaku bared far too many tattoos to successfully paint over or alter. It’d just be replacing one problem with another anyway, he didn’t want tattoos in the first place. Even if he were to try, who’s to say the tattoos could _be_ removed in the first place? They’re vile, disgusting, evil… What if trying to get them removed hurt someone? What if it made him lose control?

Koujaku’s stomach knotted painfully at the thought, a cold sweat forming over his brow. His eyes darted across the room, taking in the large tattoo designs displayed on the walls. Mizuki did run a tattoo parlor after all, and displayed his work proudly. He closed his eyes, steadying his breathing to focus on the conversation. His lips slowly opened, “You look good, by the way. I haven’t seen you much since then.”

Mizuki nodded, “I feel great.” They simultaneously downed the next shots, smiling and laughing like their old, idiot selves again. Before long, Mizuki got back to pestering. “You didn’t answer me, though.” He gave Koujaku a sideways stare, pouring another set of shots soon after. “It’s my job to pry about my customer’s personal lives.”

The small group in the corner wandered towards the exit, losing interest in their surroundings. As they paraded out of the door, Mizuki followed suit and waved goodbye, locking the door behind them.

Trying to figure out exactly what Mizuki was playing at, Koujaku’s face twisted in confusion. “What are you doing? Aren’t you staying open?”

Mizuki shrugged in response as he seated himself on an adjacent bar stool, resting his back against the edge of the counter. He sneered as he grabbed the bottle and brought it to his lips, staring vacantly at the locked entrance. “You’re unreal, Koujaku.”

“What does that mean?” What’s with the sudden tone, anyway?

“I’ve gotten drunk with you more times than I can count, you think I didn’t notice how much you talk about Aoba? I probably knew you were crazy about him before you even did.” Mizuki took a sip from the bottle, looking over his shoulder at the other.

_This is… this conversation is getting weird._

Obviously embarrassed, Koujaku murmured, “Why are you-“

“And even after all that, you hide that you’re together. I mean, getting worried about those drunks overhearing?”

Blood rushed to Koujaku’s head, and his heart started beating a mile a minute. He wasn’t sure whether to be angry or honest, but Mizuki’s tone was definitely more irritating than it should’ve been. They’d always shared more… _intimate_ details about each other’s love lives, but never in this tone. Even when Koujaku had thoroughly ruined a relationship or two, Mizuki would never scold him like this. Not only was he scolding; he was scolding about Aoba. Every fiber in Koujaku’s body wanted to be angry, to punch Mizuki in the god damned face for suggesting he knew what was right for them. His imagination sparked with the thought of upper-cutting this asshole, striding off, and carrying Aoba into the sunset.

The liquor was starting to hit him, and hard.

  _Thinking back on it, he hadn’t been able to stomach any food today. So those shots…._

He slumped onto the counter, burying his face in his folded arms in a distressed, drunken stupor.

_…. Went straight into his system._

He half-heartedly muttered into his sleeves, “Aoba’s ruining my life…”

After a short pause, Mizuki let out a breath and smacked his lips in amusement. “How’s that?”

“He gets so embarrassed, and I’m always afraid of driving him away.” Koujaku’s arms fell to his sides, lifting his head and smacking it against the counter as he continued, “He’s all I can think about.”

Mizuki turned back towards the door, taking another sip from the bottle. “Aoba would kick your ass if he heard you talking like this.”

Koujaku turned his head, laying it against the cold counter to stare up at the man sitting next to him. “I know, that’s why I don’t want to make it public.”

“No, dumbass. I mean, if he heard you questioning his feelings like this.” Mizuki extended the bottle towards Koujaku, pushing it against his shoulder to urge him upright. The slumped over mass of red straightened up and grabbed at it, taking a reluctant swig. Mizuki continued, “I’m in a good spot, I get both sides of the story.”

Koujaku immediately lowered the bottle and stared at him, narrowing his eyes at the tone Mizuki used for that last bit. He grimaced and leaned closer, using the neck of the bottle in his hand to point toward the know-it-all look proudly displayed on Mizuki’s face. Koujaku began interrogating to the best of his abilities, “What do you know?”

“A lot of things, you’ll need to be more specific.”

He frowned in response, unamused by the innocent act. “What do you know about Aoba that you’re not telling me?”

After thinking it over, Mizuki let out a troubled sigh. He repositioned himself on the stool, swinging around to face the bar instead. His elbows came to rest on the counter, the leather jacket surrounding them making an unfavorable sound as it slid against the surface. Resting his head against his palm, he delivered the long awaited answer. “You’re both idiots.” Seeing how unsatisfied Koujaku was with his answer, Mizuki closed his eyes and let another sigh escape. “Don’t rat me out to Aoba, alright? I’m trying to help you, here.”

Koujaku quickly nodded in agreement, eyes wide with interest.

Mizuki started, “You’re both waiting for each other to make the first move.” His finger traced around the edge of a shot glass, planning his words carefully before spitting them out. “Honestly, he’s just as frustrated as you. Aoba blabs his mouth off when he’s drunk, and it’s ‘ _Koujaku this’_ and ‘ _Koujaku that’_. You’re obviously important to him, I’ve never heard him go off about anyone like he does about you. You need to trust him more, he’s not going to just up and leave you. If anything, your fear of driving him away is what’s going to drive him away.”

Koujaku stared back, slack-jawed at the answer he’d received. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t _that_. Slightly embarrassed, he fiddled with his bangs and stared down at his feet to avoid eye contact. “Geez…”

Mizuki snorted as he struggled to hold down a thunderous laugh, failing completely. Koujaku joined in soon enough, both of them taking frantic breaths between fits of laughter. Koujaku wasn’t sure exactly what was so funny, but whatever it was, it was _hilarious_.

Nearly falling off of his seat, Mizuki choked out, “I know, I know; it comes with the job.” He took a moment to catch his breath, wearing an impressively large grin. Things were different now, there was no denying it. Koujaku and Aoba being together, recovering from the Morphine incident, Rib’s resurgence; everything was changing at a rapid pace. Mizuki’s life had always had a fast pace, but things seemed to be moving at record speed. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought it might just be him getting old. Right now, however, things were back to the way they used to be. Interrupting his own train of thought, he asked, “So, you were fighting then?”

"Ah… No.” Koujaku had conveniently forgotten about why he’d come in the first place. Reminded, his cheeks slackened, “I’ve just had something on my mind all day." Whatever he was feeling, it definitely wasn’t the same as before. He wasn’t upset or worried now that he’d remembered Aoba’s incident, but felt _something_ building up inside. Deciding that ‘determination’ was the best description for this feeling that he could grasp, He tilted the bottle over one last time, pouring the remnants into his mouth. For the first time all day, he was feeling good. Hell, more than good, he felt great. Why shouldn’t he? Why should he just sit there and let those worries over Aoba devoir him? If something wanted to harm Aoba, why not just get rid of that thing? The solution seemed so simple with liquor pumping trough his veins.

_Drunk Koujaku is so much smarter than sober Koujaku._

He suddenly hopped up from the stool, grabbing at the hilt of the sword hanging down his back. Mizuki immediately recognized the look in his eyes, the look he’d seen many times before. He quickly got on his own two feet, knocking a stool to the ground in his excitement.

"Alright! Who’re we going after?"

"Leader of Scratch."

Mizuki started hollering and pumping his fists in the air, coming to a stop after Koujaku’s words sunk in. “Whoa, wait, what?”

Koujaku was already taking long strides towards the door, quickly eyeing his shoulder to make sure the powered down Beni didn’t get left behind. Noticing Mizuki wasn’t following, he turned around as his hand gripped the door.

Mizuki scuffled towards the drunken, red-clad man in front of him. He’d had a bit to drink, but wasn’t nearly as buzzed as Koujaku seemed to be. Sensing the danger in the coming situation, Mizuki held his arms up and exposed his palms in an attempt to slow the other down. “We can’t go after the leader of Scratch.”

Uninterested, Koujaku turned back around and continuing through the now open entryway. He waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder, shouting into the streets, “You can either help me, or stay home.” The time must’ve flown by in there, the overpowering sun was already beginning to set outside. As an orange twilight painted the alley in front of him, Koujaku optimistically hummed a tune as he walked. Completely lost in the adrenaline of the moment, he speed walked around corners and between buildings with purpose. Where was he going? Somehow, the possibility of casually running into Mink on the street seemed substantially high in his mind. Just then, someone jogged up behind him and pulled at the back of his kimono harshly.

“I said wai-!” Mizuki’s words cut off, sounding as though a clasp had been placed around his throat. Koujaku finally stopped walking as Beni flew by his head, knocked off of his perch. His eyes followed the Allmate in confusion, wondering why he wasn’t nestled comfortably on his shoulder anymore, until…

“Shit!” He pulled at the kimono now draped down his lower half, completely exposing his back. As he pulled the fabric back over his shoulders, Beni nestled into where he had been only seconds before. Koujaku’s body tensed, and his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. Nothing had ever sobered him up so fast, everything around him skidded to a hault. He didn’t want to turn around, he didn’t want to face what Mizuki had just seen, but there was no avoiding it now. He slowly turned around, adjusting his sleeves as he responded, “Okay, I’m waiting.”

Mizuki stared back, mouth opening and closing as he tried to spit something out. He swung his arms out in front of him and motioned at Koujaku’s body, a short laugh accompanying his gestures. “Why didn’t you tell me? You have something like _that_ on your back and didn’t think to show me? I mean, I’ve seen some of the ones on your arm, but…”

_Stop._

This was exactly why Mizuki was the last person he wanted to show. Tattoos are Mizuki’s passion, just knowing about the one on Koujaku’s back… He’ll never stop asking about it. If Mizuki knew it was one of Ryuuhou’s personal works, he’d be completely elated. Does he even know what happened with Ryuuhou? He may have heard that the bastard happened to take a sword to the chest, but there would be no way of knowing it was by Koujaku’s own hands. _Right?_ In fact, there’d be no way to tell exactly how he died in the first place. Ryuuhou’s body was likely buried deep within the rubble of Oval Tower, a victim of the collapse. By the time they’d cleaned up the mess, he was probably beyond recognition. Mizuki would go off about this amazing tattoo artist he’d met, going on about how lucky he’d been to receive a design. Every time he started talking about it, Koujaku would manage to change the conversation somehow. Even now, the small ink work stands in a frame at his shop. Koujaku had considered taking the thing and disposing of it many times, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Just laying eyes on it made him sick to his stomach, but Mizuki was so proud of the damn thing.

"Koujaku, you don’t look so hot…"

Fuck, he was right. Koujaku’s head felt like it weighed about twenty extra pounds, and yet felt light enough to float off of his shoulders. Thinking about his tattoo so much had brought a cold sweat to his brow. He felt sick, and the rush from earlier had completely left his body. Dizzily grabbing at the dusty building to his side, Koujaku planted his arms firmly on the wall to steady himself. His elbows folded and scrapped against the concrete as his forehead rested on the wall, a low groan echoing against it. His shoulders jerked in response when a gloved hand patted his back.

“Give me your a-“ Mizuki’s sentence got cut short, the sound of broken glass filling the narrow alleyway. The hand previously resting on Koujaku’s shoulder shot up to the top of his head, then quickly back down to check for blood. A pained sound bellowed through Mizuki’s lips, “W-What the hell!?” Looking up in confusion, Mizuki shouted, “Who just threw that bottle!?”

Koujaku was peering over his shoulder, completely lost. Did someone just throw a bottle at Mizuki? Looking down, he noticed shattered glass littering the street below Mizuki’s feet. Rubbing at his temples, he turned back towards the wall and took a deep breath. Koujaku swayed, trying to get ahold of his senses as Mizuki frantically paced the alley in search of an attacker. After a minute or two of searching, Mizuki gave up and returned to Koujaku’s side.

Still cautious, he continued, “Anyway, give me your arm. You’re a mess, and I’m not letting you pass out on the street.”

Closing his eyes, Koujaku wiped his sweaty brow with the sleeve of his kimono. He threw his head back and took long, steady breaths to relieve the nausea. Finally turning around, he quickly nodded to Mizuki’s suggestion, “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not.” Mizuki positioned himself beside the other and wrapped his arm around Koujaku’s torso, firmly gripping a handful of fabric to steady him. As humiliating as it was, Koujaku pushed his pride down in favor of the assistance and draped an arm over Mizuki’s shoulders. They slowly hobbled out of the alley and onto a main street, seemingly empty compared to the bustle of the day. Few people passed, shooting glares as they saw Koujaku’s clearly hung-over state. Some even avoided the pair altogether, crossing the street to keep a comfortable distance. Koujaku couldn’t really blame them, he was just as disgusted with his current appearance. A voice sounded next to him after a long, awkward silence, “Damn, my head’s killing me.”

Koujaku let out a small, guttural laugh in response, “It was just trash.”

Rubbing at the bump on his head, Mizuki returned the laugh. “Says the guy who nearly vomits after a drink.”

Koujaku glared back, raising an eyebrow in question. “Isn’t it your job to make sure that doesn’t happen?”

Mizuki stopped for a moment, ducking down and readjusting his hold before continuing forward. Another streak of awkward silence hung in the air as they advanced, making slow progress towards home. Just as Koujaku was getting accustomed to the silence, Mizuki softly mumbled something under his breath. Debating whether or not to even ask, Koujaku speaks up, “Did you say something?”

“Sorry,” Mizuki forces out, eyes glued to his feet. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Koujaku looks at the other and narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Uncomfortable?”

“About your tattoos, I shouldn’t expect you to share everything with me. I guess it just…” Mizuki trails off, lost in thought. “I guess things just seem different now.” As Mizuki’s statement ends, he lets out a surprised breath when the limp body beside him suddenly pulls away. When he looks back, Koujaku’s bent forward with his hands on his knees, seemingly out of breath. Mizuki reaches out for him, quickly recoiling when he realizes what’s happening. Koujaku is… laughing?

“You’re jealous of Aoba!”

“What? No!”

“You are!” Koujaku stood up straight with a crooked smile, snorting as he tried to hold down his laughter. Shaking his head playfully, he continued forward without Mizuki’s help.

“Hey,” Mizuki ran after him, pushing Koujaku’s shoulders as he caught up. “I see you’re feeling better, asshole.”

Turning off of the main street, they wander down the small, roofed walkway that leads to Koujaku’s front door. His house is nicely tucked away, and the exterior is very well-kept. Mizuki often wondered how much profit Koujaku receives from his business, but never found an appropriate time to ask. Based on the state of his home, it’d seem like a pretty desirable field. Then again, Koujaku’s popularity was worth far more than the actual hair cuts themselves. Koujaku speaks up again, “I know you feel like a third wheel now, but there’s no reason things need to change between the three of us.” He searched through his kimono as they approached the door, pulling out a small key ring. “Blame it all on me, if you want.” Shakily inserting the key into the lock, he turned it slowly and unlocked the door.

As they paraded through the entryway, Mizuki groaned, “Do you _always_ have to sound like the good guy?” Frustrated, he kicks off his shoes and promptly hits Koujaku’s calf with a flying boot. “Shouldn’t Aoba be here by now?”

Lifting the hefty shoulder strap over his head, Koujaku leaned his sword against the wall and stretched his aching back. He feels better than before, but he’s definitely still groggy and, well, drunk. Realizing Mizuki had asked something, he spun around and forced out a bellowing call. “Aoba! Aoba, Mizuki’s here! Get your ass in here!”

Mizuki let out a long sigh, pushing on Koujaku’s back to urge him forward. Koujaku nearly stumbles off of his feet at the sudden movement, but soon begins following where he’s lead. Laughing slightly, Mizuki carefully leads Koujaku to the bedroom and stands him next to the bed. Koujaku immediately dives toward the mattress, burying his face in the pillow with an exhausted breath. One of his eyes shoots open and looks up at Mizuki, who’s towering over the bed with his arms crossed. Koujaku mumbles and closes his eyes, half asleep already. “Mnnh… Where’s Aoba?”

Mizuki pulls up his coil and scrolls through the contacts, stopping over Aoba’s ID. He kicks the bed before leaving the room, jolting Koujaku awake for a moment. “I’ll figure that out. Go to sleep, I’m tired of dealing with your drunk ass.”

* * *

 

A dark, dirty prison cell.

Koujaku slowly opens his eyes, cheek pressed against a cold cement floor. He was drooling all over himself, and is that… blood? Not his blood, it doesn’t smell right. Wait, since when can he _smell_ blood so well? Something’s different about the blood here, too.

It’s sweet.

Just smelling it is torture, it’s so appealing. He just needs one taste, or to smell it closer, or _something_. As Koujaku begins to sit up, large chains pull at the hands cuffed behind his back. He jolts forward, throwing his body toward the sweet scent. The chains recoil and strain the muscles in his arms and shoulders as he’s held back, denied further movement. Just as he’s about to scream in frustration, the scent becomes stronger. Not just the scent, but a heartbeat. Someone’s coming this way, and everything about them smells amazing. A heavy iron door slams shut, and Koujaku can barely contain himself. That intoxicating smell coming closer and closer, it’s maddening. Squirming uncomfortably under the chains that bind him, Koujaku leans towards the thick bars in front of him. A tall, elegant white figure comes into view between the bars. The second Koujaku's eyes meet the figure’s face, his vision flashes red.

Koujaku’s eyes dart open and stare at the ceiling, a cold sweat forming on his neck. Shit, he had that dream again, didn’t he? No matter how many times that dream would reoccur, Koujaku can never get past the point of seeing that figure’s face. It’s frustrating, not knowing what the hell it means or who the white figure is. He’d gotten accustomed to having nightmares about the past, but this was completely new territory. Whatever this dream was, it was obviously important in some way.

As he started to roll out of bed, a throbbing pain coursed through his head. Koujaku clasped his eyes shut and grit his teeth, groaning as he sat upright. With the silence around him, memories from last night slowly seep into his head. His heart skips a beat as his eyes open, surveying the empty room for signs of Aoba. Did he come home last night? He had to, Aoba wouldn’t wander out overnight. A small clatter sounded in the kitchen, nearly taking Koujaku’s breath away.

_Oh, thank god. He’s here._

Despite the throbbing pain in his skull, Koujaku threw himself out of bed and hurried down the hallway. When he turned the corner to see a figure, a knot tightened in his stomach and a crushing feeling came over him. Responding to the footsteps, Mizuki’s head turned to face Koujaku. With a small bird perched on his shoulder, the man covered from head to toe in leather was casually cooking eggs. The sight was almost surreal, and would be slightly amusing had Koujaku been in a better mood. Mizuki laughed, looking back at the eggs. “I was beginning to think you were dead.”

The bird on his shoulder flapping his wings in agreement before flying over to peck Koujaku’s ear. Beni’s loud voice echoed in his ear, “Yeah! And did you sleep in your clothes? You’re hopeless!”

Mizuki searched through the cupboards until finding a small plate, pilling a portion of eggs on. He extended his arm, offering the plate. “Eat something, you’ll feel better.”

Koujaku narrowed his eyes, inspecting the plate before hesitantly grabbing at the edges. Like an idiot, he stood in the middle of the kitchen, slack-jawed with a plate of eggs. He glanced towards the table, which had thankfully been thoroughly cleaned since the other morning. Koujaku rubbed at his head and fiddled with his bangs as he placed the plate down on the table, taking a seat in front of it. “I see you made yourself at home.”

Turning toward the table with another plate in his hands, Mizuki placed it across the tabletop and took the adjacent seat. Nodding, he broke apart a pair of chopsticks as he responded, “Don’t eat them, then.”

Koujaku shut his eyes again and shook his head, grabbing at his own pair of utensils. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant. Thanks.” Within seconds, he was shoveling eggs into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten for weeks. Between bites, he managed to ask, “Where’s Aoba?”

Mizuki’s knee shook up and down underneath the table, a nervous habit he’d developed. Noticing, Koujaku stopped eating and made intense eye contact with the other. With the serious look on Koujaku’s face beating Mizuki’s will, he sifted a hand through his hair. “We need to talk about that.”

Immediately lowering the chopsticks, Koujaku let out a troubled sigh he’d been holding in. Hands shaking, he brought his wrist to his face and scrolled through his coil contacts. Mizuki’s worried face was visible through the semi-transparent screen, shaking his head. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of him since we got here, but nobody picks up. You were out cold last night, and I figured you needed someone to look after you. After Aoba didn’t answer the calls or come home, I figured you were the least of my worries.”

Koujaku’s elbow slammed on the table, hand cupping his forehead. He breathed through his teeth, trying to calm himself down as he muttered, “Shit.” He bolted up from the seat and walked towards the front door, grabbing the sword resting against the wall and placing it on his back.

Mizuki got up and ran after him, shouting, “If you’re running out there to look for him, do you at least have a plan?”

No, he didn’t, but quietly waiting at home wouldn’t bring Aoba back. As he tried to form a coherent plan in his head, a small scratching sounded behind the front door. Eyeing it nervously, Koujaku unlocked the door and opened it slighty, just enough to poke his head through and see nothing but his usual porch. Deciding it must’ve been nothing, he closed the door again and looked back at Mizuki. Holding his arm out in a strict motion, he says, “Yeah, I’ve got a plan. You call up Dry Juice members, I’ll call Beni-shigure, and-“ Before Koujaku could finish, a small blue ball of fur circled around his legs and took his attention. The most ridiculously large smile broke Koujaku’s lips as he bent down and picked the Allmate up, tucking it into his arms. Holding Ren tightly, he swung the door open again and surveyed the porch.

Once again, there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary. He’d expected to see Aoba right then and there, standing on the welcome mat. His beautiful blue hair would be lightly blowing in the breeze, and his hazel eyes would pierce straight through Koujaku. Just thinking about what he was missing made his stomach knot in pain. Bringing the small dog to his face, he hurriedly questioned, “Why aren’t you with Aoba?” As he asked, Koujaku noticed how matted and dirty Ren’s fur was. He brushed through it with his fingers, examining every inch of the Allmate for damage.

Ren barked, “I’ve lost Aoba.”

This situation was getting worse by the second. Not only was Aoba missing, but Ren wasn’t with him. Mizuki leaned out of the doorway, eavesdropping on the conversation. Koujaku questioned, “How did you lose him?”

“I searched for help,” he answered, “Aoba was gone when I returned.”

Koujaku tucked the small dog into his kimono and turned toward the doorway, eyeing Mizuki. Afraid to ask, he hesitantly opened his mouth again.

_“But why did he need help?”_


	4. Lost Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ren's frantic search for Aoba turns up empty, leaving him with one last option: Koujaku. As it turns out, Koujaku may be the one in need of help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again about the delay, I've been a giant ball of stress this entire month.
> 
> Anyway...
> 
> IT'S LOOKIN' BAD BUT I PROMISE AOBA'S ALRIGHT YOU JUST GOTTA TRUST ME

“Down this alley, to the left.”

Ren navigated Aoba around buildings and across streets, the seemingly giant blue form making quick movements as he followed the directions. The bag hanging over Aoba’s shoulder swayed while he walked, bouncing between his arm and ribcage. The movement was small, but enough to cause the small dog inside some fumbling around while trying to keep his head sticking out. The blue haired man towering over Ren looks down periodically, scratching behind one of his soft ears.

Aoba seemed to be in more of a hurry today than usual. Was this because of his quarrel with Koujaku? He definitely seemed on edge, it was easy to tell from his district walking patterns that something was off. Aoba also didn’t have his headphones on, meaning something was distracting him. He’d usually pull them over his head the second his boots hit the sidewalk, eager to empty his mind and sink into the rhythmic drop of his heels. Today, his steps were hurried and uneven as they progressed. It’d be hard for anyone passing by to notice, but Ren was accustomed to Aoba’s body language. His tall, narrow legs would make such swift movements that were nearly impossible for the Allmate not to notice. Aoba’s entire body was conflicted right now, everything was tight and nervous in nature.

This all struck Ren as very odd behavior, but he chose to stay quiet about it for the time being.

As they continued through the narrow side street, Ren pulled his focus from Aoba’s movements to a small group of young men leaning against a nearby wall. Noticing that the group had two members, he made a mental note of their appearance. They had no visible tattoos or distinct scars to memorize, and baggy hoods concealed their loose hair. Ren was always on the lookout, and noted almost everything that happened around him. Aoba was forgetful, and surely wouldn’t remember precise details about any current situation. Even if Aoba was more aware of his surroundings, Ren would still keep diligent watch over him. If anything were to happen to Aoba, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Aoba could keep living just fine without him, but Ren wouldn’t have anything left without Aoba by his side. Koujaku and Tae were important to him, even Beni holds some importance now, but Aoba is all that matters in the end. He’s _Aoba’s_ Allmate, nobody else’s. He’s a lot of things to Aoba, even if he didn’t fully understand it.

As the terrible thought of life without Aoba circled in his head, one of the men said something from behind. Aoba was clearly trying to ignore them as he continued forward, making an effort not to glance back at them. Ren, however, fidgeted around in the bag until he was facing the opposite direction, barely able to see past Aoba’s jacket. His view of the men broadened as they approached, hands in their pockets. Nothing particularly popped out as recognizable about the men, they seemed like the average youth looking to cause fights. It was almost troubling how hard it was to find something memorable about them. While Ren studied them, his view suddenly blurred as Aoba swung around to confront them, the bag knocking against him roughly as it swayed.

The movement made Ren fumble inside, squirming around until his paws once again touched the fabric bellow. Muffled from the outside, he heard Aoba talking to the men in a hurried and dismissive fashion. He tried to poke his head out of the bag, struggling to move in the small space. Aoba must’ve been reflexively holding the bag close to himself, making the smooth fabric surrounding Ren stick to his fur as he struggled, attempting to find the opening. The muffled talking quickly evolved into shouting, more movement jerking the bag around underneath Aoba’s arm. Ren stopped struggling in an instant, deciding instead to focus his effort on hearing the conversation. If he wasn’t able to escape the bag to view the situation, he could take solace in knowing he had distinct memories of exactly what words were exchanged between the men and Aoba. His ears perked up, listening intently through the thick fabric. He was able to make out something about Beni-shigure, loudly blurted out by Aoba in a panic. Only seconds after, the bag jolted as Aoba coughed, suddenly out of breath.

Ren shouted, voice muffled inside of the bag, “Aoba!”

No good.

Just as Ren thought he’d try shouting again, the bag fell. At least, he assumed that’s what had happened, based on the large thud that left the Allmate completely disoriented. He wasted precious time fumbling around, not sure which way was up or down. A stray ray of light caught his attention, and he immediately wormed towards it. Sliding his head between zipper straps, the crisp air pelted his face as he immerged. The bag was on the ground, haphazardly laying on its side. His paws finally touched the cold cement, something he’d been trying to accomplish for what seemed like hours. Ren quickly gathered his senses and turned towards the commotion, looking frantically for his owner. A small growl sounded in his throat when the image of Aoba being held down filled his view.

Aoba wasn’t just being held down, he was being beaten. Blood stained the ground underneath the blue haired man’s face as he curled into a defensive fetal position with one of the men straddling him, landing punches on every inch of his upper body. It was painful just to look at, even with Aoba’s body facing away from him. The twist of pain on Aoba’s face would’ve been too much to bear, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

Ren thought for a moment about biting the attackers’ ankles, but quickly decided against it. If he tried to defend Aoba in this small, helpless body, the men would likely kick him away. They would direct their aggression towards him, then return to Aoba when done. A small Allmate such as himself didn’t have nearly as much stamina as a grown man, and being savagely broken wouldn’t leave either of them with many options. Out of ideas, he sprinted towards the street, taking care not to be seen by the men as he escaped. Hearing his name being called frantically, Ren reluctantly ignored it as he ran for help.

Hard to believe the sun was so high, the alleyway had seemed so dim and listless for this time of day. Time stood still in the narrow streets between buildings, shadows effectively blocking out the blinding light and muffling the many sounds of the busy city. The streets were bustling, residents blissfully unaware of the assault taking place between the woodwork. Even if they were aware, would they turn a blind eye towards it? The police most likely would, so they weren’t an option. The law enforcement in Midorijima is just about the last group of people anyone should turn to in a dire situation, and Ren knew that fact very well. Actually, reporting an illegal act may land the innocent party in jail for daring to pester an officer with such “ _trivial things”_.

No, the police definitely weren’t an option.

A pair of feet suddenly stepped in front of the small Allmate, presumably a woman’s. Ren quickly decided to tug on her pant leg in an effort to stop her progress. Noticing the dog biting at her leg, the woman stopped and bent down, placing her hands under his front legs and lifting him up to eye level. She cooed and rubbed her forehead against his, reminiscent of Aoba’s similar habit. Ren placed his paws against her chin, pushing her away.

“Ma’am-“

The woman laughed happily at his voice, moving her lips into a kissing motion as she asked, “So _cuuuute!_ Are you lost?”

Ren sighed, struggling against her grip a bit before responding, “I am not lost.”

“Are you a stray? Poor thing, abandoned by its owner… Some people are just terrible!”

“Please, I need-“ Ren’s words were cut off once again.

“Don’t worry sweetie, I’ll take care of you.” With that, the woman began walking again, holding the small dog against her chest. Ren squirmed in her hold, barking desperate please towards her. As it became obvious that the woman wasn’t listening, Ren growled softly against her. This was just about the opposite of what he had hoped to accomplish, precious time was slipping by as he was being cradled and cooed at. Before he could think twice about the decision he’d just made, the seemingly harmless ball of fur sunk his teeth into one of the fingers wrapped around him. With a sharp intake of breath, the woman suddenly dropped him and wrapped a hand around her injured finger. Ren struggled to get on his feet as the woman scolded, “No wonder your owner abandoned you!”

Shaking his head, he growled under his breath as he recovered from being dropped for the second time in a matter of minutes. His hardware really wasn’t going to react well to all this battery, especially if he can’t manage to land on his feet. Aoba can look him over for damage later.

_Help Aoba._

Without a second thought, he trotted back towards the alley he’d come from. He’d wasted so much time, and was now returning with even less progress towards helping Aoba than he’d left with.

Call someone.

If he could get close enough to Aoba’s coil, he could connect wirelessly with it. What would he say, anyway? _‘Yes, I’m here in an alley on an unfamiliar street watching Aoba get beaten mercilessly. Pease respond as soon as possible.’_ Ren shook the thought from his head. That wasn’t important now, what mattered was getting in synching distance of Aoba’s coil. He rounded a corner, slowly, ducking his already insignificant body to the ground. As the empty alley came into view, his heart stopped. Or, it would have, if he owned a functioning heart.

The men were gone. More importantly, so was Aoba. The Allmate ran towards the spot he had distinctly remembered leaving Aoba in, nose twitching as it sniffed the now empty space. Aoba couldn’t have gone far, his scent was still overpowering. Ren quickly realized that the strong scent of Aoba was left in the form of blood, pooled and slightly smeared on the cement. He backed up, almost unconsciously, and studied his surroundings. The package was gone, and so was Aoba’s bag. Ren’s eyes drifted, taking in every corner of the alley before he noticed it.

Small droplets of blood, leading out into the street.

His feet took off in a sprint, practically on their own. Within a few short seconds, he was slowing to a halt, one of his front legs dangling above the ground, unsure. Slowly bringing the leg down to meet the others, his head swiveled, quickly surveying the streets.

The trail went cold.

He must’ve ran up and down that stretch of road for hours, searching every adjacent alley and studying every passing face. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Aoba was gone. He was gone, and no amount of searching was bringing him back. The Allmate came to rest in one of the narrow alleys, stopping in his tracks and plopping onto his side. Ren’s chest heaved, panting against the cold ground and his thoughts drifted.

What now?

There was nothing to follow, no way of knowing where Aoba had been dragged off to. The only possible answer now was to regroup, find someone able to take the next step in locating a missing person. Ren automatically knew who he needed to find, and thankfully, he knew exactly where to find them. Without further hesitation, he came to his feet and began running towards home. Thankfully, his navigation worked perfectly fine without a coil connection. He scolded himself, he’d wasted so much time trying to solve this on his own. Who knows where Aoba is, or who he’s with. Would he be awake? Is he scared, wondering why his beloved Allmate abandoned him? Ren could already tell this jog home was going to be terribly long and trying. If he could cry in this current state, he would have broken down hours ago.

By the time his padded paws pressed against Koujaku’s doormat, the sun had set and the street lights slowly blinked to life. It had taken so long to get across town, damn these short legs. He began scratching below the door, flinging a corner of the mat in disarray. Ren barked Koujaku’s name, leading into small yips for attention from the other side of the door. Koujaku was probably asleep at this hour, but that certainly didn’t excuse the lack of an open door. How heavy a sleeper was this guy, anyway? Damn it, this is an emergency, Koujaku!

With a final bark, Ren slumped down against the door, whimpering into the welcome mat. Was this some type of cruel joke? Why had everything gone so terribly wrong in one night? He stood on all fours, slowly making his way to one of the windows. The run home had left him exhausted, and he hadn’t received a reward for all the trouble. Giving up half way to the window, he seated himself behind one of Koujaku’s potted plants, sheltering himself from the cold night breeze. His fur was matted, and his joints ached from overuse. He couldn’t remember the last time he powered down, getting that much needed relief from the waking world. His eyes grew heavy, clasping shut before he could catch himself.

_Just enough to function again, then I’ll find Aoba._

 

* * *

 

“And then I heard motion inside the house, it startled me awake.”

Koujaku had brought Ren inside and placed him on the table, brushing through his fur with a small hand towel. As he rubbed at the grime coating the small Allmate, he rhythmically checked for damage, grabbing Ren’s jaw to direct his head from side to side. Even with a dog, Ren thought, his fingers trailing through hair really did feel relaxing. Noticing Ren’s eyes had grown heavy again, the hairdresser asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Powering down helped my system substantially, my thoughts are much less scattered than last night.”

Koujaku silently nodded, continuing his examination. He glanced towards Mizuki, who had been pacing in the kitchen during Ren’s retelling of the events. Leather gloved fingers gripped the back of his head, nervously stopping to look at the kimono-clad man sitting idly at the table. Scoffing, he began pacing again. “You’re handling this pretty well, Koujaku.”

Focused on the ball of fluff laying in front of him, Koujaku responded with a low murmur. His index finger and thumb traced over the Allmate’s ear, gripping at a stray bit of leaf that had nestled into Ren’s fur. Engrossed in the grooming, he responded, “I’m trying to stay calm.” The thud of his elbow against the table jostled Ren awake. He gripped his forehead, hair spilling over his hand. “Damn it Mizuki, I was trying to stay calm.”

Noticing Beni begin to pick at a cold plate of eggs, Mizuki took a seat at the table across from Koujaku. He motioned at the bird to stop, granting him a peck on the finger. Deciding it was best not to bother, he retracted his hand and leaned back in the chair. Mizuki huffed, bringing his feet above the table and dropping them down, resting his heels on the edge. He scrolled through his coil before letting out a frustrated breath, staring at the troubled Koujaku as he mumbled, “Well, we know it wasn’t Beni-shigure. I’ll check around, but I’ll be damned if anyone in Dry Juice did this.”

The hand once used to groom through Ren’s fur sat on the table, gripping tightly around the washcloth. Koujaku stood up suddenly, jolting the table as Mizuki quickly braced his hands against the edge to avoid tilting backwards. Already at the sink, the large tattooed man threw the towel in before gripping the counter’s edge. He threw his head back and let out a long, strained breath before speaking. “Scratch. I told you before.” His head sank back down, fingers clawing at the counter. “If I didn’t get drunk like a damned idiot, I could have-“ Mizuki cut him off immediately, bringing his chair to the ground.

“Don’t start that shit,” he replied, beginning to stand. “For the love of God, don’t start with that.” Mizuki tucked the chair in, glancing over at the small bird resting on the table. He motioned towards Beni expectedly, pointing at the mess of a man standing above the sink. Taking the hint, Beni took off towards his owner, settling into his broad shoulder. “Everything’s going to be fine, alright? This is probably just a misunderstanding.” When Koujaku didn’t respond, he crossed his arms and tilted his head in question, “What _exactly_ did Scratch do to you, anyway?”

Koujaku turned his head, glancing over his shoulder. His stare lingered for a moment, conflicting thoughts drifting through his still aching head. Turning back towards the sink, his body visibly tensed as Mizuki’s questioning continued. The voice behind him was hesitant, but pushed on regardless. “Koujaku?”

“Leave it alone, Mizuki.”

His face twisted, “Why should I? I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you gotta look at this through my eyes.”

Koujaku’s voice was obviously agitated as he shouted back, “I told you to leave it alone.”

Mizuki began stepping closer. “Why won’t you tell me?” He advanced towards the counters, leaning his side against them with crossed arms. Koujaku shifted his face away from the man now standing next to him. “If I’m going to help you find Aoba, I need to know what’s going on.”

The voice that came out of Koujaku was low and pitiful as he said, “I don’t need your help.”

“Too bad, you’re getting it. This is my problem now, too.” His head tilted to the side, leaning against the cupboards. Hoping the awkward silence would break Koujaku, he stared at the other with raised brows. Granted, Koujaku wasn’t registering the stare, but it was the best interrogation tactic he knew. After a moment, Koujaku’s exposed crimson eye met his.

“This isn’t the first time they’ve taken him.”

“What the hell would Scratch want with Aoba?” Mizuki jumped as a fist hit the counter, the body attached to it heaving with heated breath. “ _Shit_ -“

Koujaku’s mind was pelted with images of Aoba. No, not just Aoba, images of _hands_ touching _his_ Aoba. The thought made him sick; the thought of anyone laying a finger on someone so utterly precious. Someone carelessly grabbing at his beautiful, sensitive blue head of hair. In his imagination, Aoba yelped at the pain it caused, much like when bullies had done the same in their younger years. Aoba was scared, completely petrified of whoever was touching him, his skin crawling at the sensation. Koujaku’s vision flashed red, distracting from the constant borage of blue he’d been imagining.

Just then, a voice pulls him back to reality. Mizuki was standing at a sizeable distance with Beni perched on his shoulder, hands held defensively between them. His eyes darted to the table and noticed Ren, who was at complete attention now. What? Then, he saw it. His balled up fist was resting above a cracked, dented countertop. Did he do that? When did…

“Calm down, alright?” The other began stepping closer, slowly, hands making a calming movement up and down. “I’m sorry.”

Koujaku’s hand flung towards his mouth and covered the small whine trying to escape from his lips. His eyebrows knotted as his eyes darted across the room, stumbling backwards. His back was hot, no, it was _burning_. The ink resting dormant under his skin hadn’t acted up for what had to be nearly a year, and now… God, his skin would burn off at this rate.

This was over.

This was supposed to be over.

Didn’t Aoba fix this?

His voice trembled as he began, “We-“ Clearing his throat, he continued with a steady voice, “We need to find Aoba.”

Mizuki sighed, “Grab your sword.”


	5. Battered & Bruised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aoba finally wakes up from his power nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you guys to trust me.

There was really no way of telling what Aoba would see when his consciousness returned.

Aoba, however, was sure that he’d see Koujaku sleeping next to him, hanging an arm over his torso. He’d feel the pleasant warmth of the body next to him, roll into it and bury his face, refusing to wake up. Getting out of bed has always been difficult, but the addition of a warm body next to him each morning made leaving all the more painful. Mornings were always slow, and often resulted in the older throwing the blankets off of the bed, sometimes with the younger still wrapped up inside. The world outside his blanket was cold and bitter, life would be so much easier if he could just lay in bed all day with Ren curled up at his feet. Koujaku could stay there too, so long as he never moves that arm. How did it radiate heat like that? It was particularly cold this morning, though, and the heavy, scarred arm he’d grown so accustomed to was nowhere to be found. Did he kick the blankets off in his sleep, too?

Koujaku’s lacking on the cuddles this morning, that’s for damn sure.

His eyes began to flutter as he rolled across the bed, searching for the familiar pool of heat (and personal body pillow) known as his boyfriend. By this point his face would usually collide with Koujaku’s chest, letting out a disgruntled breath at the very thought of being awake at this hour.

His face collided with the ground instead.

A light clattering of glass accompanied his fall as the room stirred around his sudden movement. The wood he fell onto was old and hard, but felt like solid stone beneath him. His whole body ached as if it’d been thrown down several flights of stairs, and that little fall certainly didn’t help the pain. He quickly rolled off of the arm he had landed on, letting out a high pitched whine as he readjusted onto his stomach and felt his abdomen recoil from the pressure. Shit, every inch of him hurt like hell, and every muscle refused to work right. His cheek pressed against the dusty ground, aching jaw begging for a less painful position. He flipped his head around multiple times, failing to find a comfortable resting place. The wood against his face smelled old and almost rotting, but it wasn’t overpowering or unpleasant. It was the kind of scent only achieved with age, after years of daily wear and tear without regular maintenance. The thought of the floors in Koujaku’s apartment smelling like this was surprising, to say the least.

Wait.  _Their_  apartment. That still sounds odd.

Koujaku keeps his living space relatively neat and tidy, and burns incense often. While Aoba definitely isn’t the messiest guy around, he’s not exactly the pillar of organization. It’d gotten to the point where Koujaku would throw Aoba’s dirty socks at him after finding them on the ground or wrapped up in the futon. This act almost always initiated a play fight of sorts, Aoba taking off his current pair of socks and aiming straight at his boyfriend’s face. Things would only escalate from there, topped with the fact that Koujaku likes to tease him. Once you pin each other down and begin wrestling on the couch… Well, Koujaku probably didn’t mind the clothing littered on his nice, clean floor afterwards.

“Aah, again….” He mutters, sound reverberating off of the floor boards. It’d been the same for nearly a week now; He’d wake up and let his mind wander, and it always managed to loop back to the same thing.

_That’s embarrassing… Have some self-control, damn it._

Lethargically rolling onto his back, his arms flung out to his sides, knocking against the aging wood. He examined the ceiling as his eyelids grew heavy and began to shut. He didn’t want to move with this ache all over, but he definitely didn’t want to stay on the ground. His eyelids met as he grunted in frustration, calling for Koujaku’s help with a horse whisper.

“Kou~jaku,” His mind was still hazy as he called out, hardly recognizing his own words as they left his mouth. Imitating one of his boyfriend’s many fans, he continued, “Help me, Koujaku-san.” Without hearing a response, his hazy mind spiraled into complete exhaustion. His head was spinning, the kind of spinning that only subsides with resignation to the heavy blanket of sleep currently smothering you. The kind of spinning that makes every thought seem like a dream, barely on the cusp of the waking world. As uncomfortable as the ground was, he began sinking into what would probably be hours of unfulfilled dozing. Or rather, spinning. It definitely felt more like spinning into sleep than sinking. His drowsy body floating in darkness, spinning, spinning…

_Wait… the ceiling didn’t look…_

Within an instant, his eyes shot open. He frantically searched the ceiling, having finally made the connection that he was, in fact, not at home. Ignoring the blaring pain of moving too quickly, he tensed his back and sat up, struggling to keep good posture. He studied the room, eyes drawn to the large decorative jars and glass bulbs suspended on ropes from the ceiling. Trailing down, he noticed the immense amount of glass bottles scattered throughout the room; resting on shelves, countertops, and even on the ground. He’d never seen this room before in his life, and the eccentric decorations heightened the ‘fish out of water’ feeling washing over him. He wrapped his arms around himself and tucked his knees closer to his chest, heavy boots dragging against the hardwood before coming to a stop against his thighs. He shivered, stomach churning as he tried to get a handle on the downright sick nervousness brewing inside. Looking back towards the bed, his lips quivered as he tried to piece together where he’d wound up this time.

_No, no, no. What the hell? What is this place? Where’s Koujaku? Shit, Koujaku. He must be worried sick._

Aoba reached for his coil, fingers passing through the empty space and landing on his sleeve instead. He stared at his naked wrist, fingers still pressed against it, trying to make sense of the situation he’d found himself in. His fingers wrapped around the wrist, lightly rubbing as recollections of the previous night began to surface.

_We were making a delivery across town, and some punks stopped us, and then… They attacked me because they thought I was in Beni-Shigure. Yeah, that’s it. And then…_

He looked around the room again, as if to confirm his suspicions. Beginning to speak, his throat closed off almost immediately. His eyes began to burn, trying his best to keep tears from swelling. “Ren,” He choked off, “I should’ve waited.” Without reservation, he began sobbing lightly into his knees. As much as he tried to hold it back, he couldn’t stop. Now was no time to get emotional, and he knew that, but God damn it, crying was all he wanted to do right now. It didn’t feel good, either. There was no relief, no emotional strains being lifted. It was the worst kind of crying, the kind you let out when there’s no other possible emotion left to face.

Just complete hopelessness.

Sliding his arm under his nose, Aoba took a moment to gather himself after what had been the most pitiful sob fest of his life. Ren would surly scold him for sitting here bawling his eyes out instead of getting out of what could be a mass murderer’s house. What’s with all these bottles, anyway? He turned and flung his arms on top of the bed and inhaled sharply, a twisting pain in his sides. Slowly lowering his knees, he gripped the sheets and buried his face, preparing for what he assumed would be a highly unpleasant process.

His assumption was correct.

Using the creaky bed as a support, he slid his body off of the ground, eventually draping himself over the mattress. His scraped knees dug into the floor, supporting the lower half of his body. He must’ve looked ridiculous, propped against the bed with his ass in the air. As ridiculous as it was, this position was very familiar…

_That’s even more embarrassing than before!_

Shaking the thought from his head, he gripped the sheet tighter and pulled himself up, one knee swinging up until his boot planted firmly on the ground. This would be the hard part; the 'fighting against gravity' part. He pushed off against the bed, arms shaking as they lifted his immense weight. His body had never felt heavier, and more so, never felt so completely useless. Damn it, he never should have let those Rib guys get the drop on him. He’s better than this, better than being beaten to a pulp and not being able to move the next day. Revenge has never been Aoba’s forte, but the thought of getting back at these guys was more than a little satisfying.

Once he got upright, his knees shook, legs tingling as if they’d been asleep for hours. It almost felt like learning how to walk again, for the first couple of steps at least. Once he made it across the room, he noted the obvious limp in his walk, making a mental note to thoroughly examine his limbs for damage when he had the chance.

He reached up to grab the handle of the door in front of him, the first barrier between himself and sweet, sweet freedom, and-

“Master!”

“Wh- AAH!”

Aoba was back on the floor, quite literally. His back hit the ground, head pounding from the nice little bash it just received. His arms shot up and held his aching head, attempting to nurse the ringing in his ears. He curled onto his side, groaning through bared teeth as he screamed, “Why does this keep happening!?”

“Master! I’m sorry!” The man squatted beside him, holding his knees. “But you’re awake! That is good!”

Aoba stared at the gas mask inches from his face, rubbing his eyes at the unbelievable sight. His mouth hung open before he spit out, “Clear?”

The gas mask nodded in reply, excitedly adding, “Yes. I’m so happy that Master is awake!”

The blue haired man sat upright, hunching over as he rubbed at the back of his head. He winced, then pulled the hand back to check for blood. It’d gotten to that point, hadn’t it? Just check every inch of his body for blood, because it could be pouring out from anywhere at this point.

“I told you not to call me that, it’s weird…”

Sitting up, he rubbed at his aching head and struggled to catch his breath. Damn, got the wind knocked right out of him. Coughing into a balled up fist, Aoba extended a finger towards the mysterious man crouching next to him. His coughs were obviously agitated, deep in his lungs and struggling to recover from the lost air. Those guys really kicked his shit, didn’t they? The thought was infuriating. How could he let himself get caught off guard like that? He was raised here, he should know not to let anyone get the upper hand. If he’d had time to let loose one of those kicks, what did Mizuki call it? Fox Heel Drop? He’d only mentioned it in passing, but the name was starting to grow on him.

He dropped the finger, ushering that he was ready to continue. “So?”

"Yes."

Staring into the gas mask, his eyes narrowed. It’d be nice if he could see anything past this mask, it’s nearly impossible to read Clear’s emotions with that thing in the way. It served to make him all the more alien. He began, motioning with his arms and talking slowly to guide the other along. “I’m glad to see you too, but I need to know where I am.”

Was he glad to see him? Not that Clear had ever caused too much trouble, but something about him seemed… off. He’d show up at random intervals, sometimes with pastries or a collection of sea shells. The thought was nice, and they were damn good pastries, but having a grown man jump on your roof in the middle of the night with cupcakes and hermit crabs was a tad bit unsettling. Koujaku had reacted poorly at first, and Aoba couldn’t really blame him. Clear was following him around, after all, and his boyfriend was along for the ride. He’d tense up whenever Clear showed his face (er, gas mask), and didn’t let him get too close without stepping back a bit. A shame, really, seeing as Clear had grown quite fond of him. Koujaku relaxed after a few months, however, realizing that the man didn’t pose a threat. If Aoba didn’t know any better, he’d even say Koujaku was starting to warm up to the guy. He’d started warming up to the free pastries, at least, beginning to smile at the familiar pink box Clear brought with him on his unannounced visits. That pig.

Besides, as strange as Clear was, Aoba was indebted to him. He’d helped rescue Granny, and there was nothing Aoba could possibly do to repay that debt.

In a way, he was glad to see Clear.

Cutting off his thought, Clear answered, “Not to worry, Master, you’re safe here.”

Uh-huh. So this must be his house or something.

"Okay, that’s not important anyway, I guess. How did I get here? Did you drag me all the way here?"

He shook his head. “Of course not! I carried you.”

Aoba’s face grew hot at that answer.  _What._  Ignoring the blaring pain, he stumbled to his feet, flattening the shirt against his chest and grabbing at the ends of his sleeves. His hands always retreat into his sleeves when he gets nervous, he was never sure exactly when that habit started. Clear followed to his own feet, enthusiastically clapping at Aoba’s fast road to recovery. It wasn’t that he felt any better, really, more than he need to power through these movements if he planned on getting home. Tucking his unkempt blue hair behind his ear, Aoba asked, “You carried me? Like, through the entire district? With everyone watching?”

_I wouldn’t even let Koujaku do that, you weirdo! Not again, anyway._

The other’ tone fell for a moment, concern becoming evident. “I took the rooftops. If Master is worried about people seeing, that should have been the right choice…”

_Say what now? Rooftops? As in, jumping from roof to roof? While carrying someone? Was that even possible? It sounds like he’s been watching too many super hero movies._

The blue haired man was cut off the second his lips parted, the other seeming to just remember something with a sudden gasp. He reached towards his pockets and patted around, soon reaching inside to feel for something. Coming up empty handed, he patted at his back pockets, turning in circles as if chasing his own tail. Whining, he checked all available pockets one last time. “Nnnn, I lost another bottle… This one was really nice, too.” Surly a sulk was hidden behind that gas mask, as impossible as it was to tell.

Letting out a defeated breath, Aoba decided against prodding the subject any further. It was best not to ask questions with Clear, he’d learned that. He faintly smiled, trying to appear as sincere as possible as he asked, “Could I use your restroom? I need to clean myself up.”

Without hesitation, Clear swung the door open, pointing to a door across the hallway. Nodding in thanks, Aoba excused himself out of the room. His progress was slow, and he still had a definite limp, bit it was progress nonetheless. Streaks of light penetrated an old, cracked window at the end of the hall, painting the dark wood. Dust lingered in the air, illuminated perfectly in the contrast of light. As he approached the door, he leaned towards the window, taking a few extra steps until he could see the outside world. A quiet sound passed his parted lips, not so much a gasp as a release of air. The view outside was that of- the dump? Sure looked like it, at least. Pieces of scrap metal littered the would-be yard, a large pile of tires taking center stage.

_This guy lives in a mechanical graveyard…_

Shaking it off and trying his damnedest not to judge, Aoba limped back towards the bathroom door and twisted the handle. As the door swung open, he was almost surprised at how well kept it was. Regardless of the location, this house seemed to be relatively well taken care of. Given the state of that window, the outside probably looks less than stellar compared to the interior. It’s a good life lesson, something about not judging a book by its cover and whatnot.

As he stepped through the doorway, his heart skipped a beat. Just then, he saw it.

His face.

Staring into the mirror, his hand grabbed at the air a few times before coming to rest on the edge of the door, not able to tear himself away from the sight in front of him. Slowly latching the door into its frame, he continued staring blankly into the reflective surface. A hand reached up and rubbed against his cheek, tracing invisible lines around a scuff mark. He was relieved to discover that it was asfault stuck to his face, and not a large disfiguring bruise. The main attraction, however, was the puffy black and blue bag forming under his right eye. Out of stupid curiosity, he tapped it with a finger, quickly recoiling from the touch. Instead, his hand traced down towards his nose and past his lips, feeling at blood dried on his chin. Wandering up again, he found a small gash on his lower lip, determining that as the source of blood. He also couldn't help but notice the lingering taste of copper in his mouth, and traced his tongue over each tooth for a head count.

_12, 13… Shit, he never knew how many teeth he had in the first place. Everything felt right, that should be good enough._

As he continued feeling around in his mouth, Aoba ripped off a small portion of toilet paper and wetted it under the faucet. He brought it to his face, lightly stroking at the caked on grime. He felt disgusting, and cleaning like this would only help so much. It was mainly for appearances, anyway. If he’s dragging his ass all the way home, he’ll be damned if he walks around looking like a traveling murder mystery show. So, this was the best he could do at the moment. Running a finger through his tangled hair, his face twisted in the mirror. Knotted hair didn’t feel too nice, the pressure of brushing through it made his skin crawl. Damn it, does it hurt like this for other people? Not knowing is irritating. Not only was his hair knotted, but it had traces of dirt in it. Was that a bit of blood lacing a group of strands together? That’s disgusting. Looking back, he regretted not getting a trim from his free, personal hairdresser. He’d decided to grow it out again, as terrible of an idea that was. Fingers fumbling through his hair, he grunted in frustration as he threw a damp piece of toilet paper on the counter.

_Damn it, this hurts. Koujaku is so much better at this stuff._

Aoba’s never been particularly bad about handling his hair, in fact, he was the only one to touch it throughout most of his life. He’d always been more than gentle while brushing through his hair, but Koujaku was just so  _good_  about it. He hadn’t even brushed his hair in months, not living under Koujaku’s roof. Aoba eventually gave up the fight and let his boyfriend care for his hair each morning, and he’d started to prefer it that way. Having someone comb through his hair like that, with such a loving touch, it was completely foreign at first. Given time, the uneasy feeling had turned to pleasure somewhere along the way. Even the mighty, talented Koujaku might not be able to fix this mess without a few tears, though.

Throwing a final ball of paper into the trash, he pressed his palms against his face. As terrible as he looked, he was at least presentable now. He looked like a drunken bar fight, but a presentable drunken bar fight. As he rested a hand on the door knob, he took a breath in hesitation.

He’s only a million miles away, he can make it home. No problem. Everything is A-Okay. He’ll go home, punch his boyfriend in the dick because he’s going to make some God awful comment about how Aoba obviously can’t be left alone, put up flyers about Ren, get Beni-Shigure to check around, and everything will be alright. They’ll bring Ren home, and then he’ll finally be able to wake up in his own damn bed with a warm arm around him and Allmate at his feet.

Aoba doesn’t ask for much in life, he will not stand his lazy morning cuddles being taken away.

The knob twisted under his grasp, pulling the door towards himself. Dusty hallway coming into view, he stepped out of the small room, nearly tripping over his own feet. What, he can’t even make it one step without almost falling on his face? Glancing towards the stairs at the opposite end of the hall, he groaned at the work displayed in front of him.

One step, two steps, three steps. This isn’t so bad. Half way down the hall now. That limp was still there, maybe he should’ve stripped down and checked the damage on his body. Then again, getting half nude in an unfamiliar house seems like a bad idea.

Alright, stairs. Just take it slow, and everything will be fine. Clear carried him all the way up the stairs and put him to bed, too? That was… really thoughtful of him, actually. Maybe he’s been too quick to judge the guy. Having to make it down all these stairs after the fact was irritating, though. He grabbed at the handrail, giving it a death-grip as he progressed down the steps. Placing a boot on each step, he steadied the second beside it before repeating the process. He hadn’t walked down steps like this since he was a child, it was almost nostalgic. Finally reaching the ground floor, a heavy sigh escaped him.

There was Clear, sitting idly at the kitchen table, waiting patiently for him. Aoba readjusted himself, nervously folding his arms over his chest. He started, “Thank you, for everything.” Clear stood up, and Aoba cut his response off. “I’m going to walk home now, if that’s alright.”

The man put his hands up in defense, “Walk home!? I can carry-“

Aoba grabbed at the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and lowering his head slightly. “Thank you, but I’ll pass.” He could almost see the big puppy-dog eyes Clear was wearing behind that mask. Sitting down again, the man stared towards the table in defeat.

_Damn it._

With a smile, Aoba added, “You can tag along, if you want.”


	6. Emotional Rekt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Koujaku doesn't want to go along with Mizuki's rescue plan, he ends up making his own.
> 
> An admittedly terrible one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise bitch
> 
> Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me
> 
> But in all seriousness, I never planned to abandon this fic. I KNOW it's been over a year so it looked pretty dead but I refuse to give up. I moved out of state and went to school and all this crazy stuff, so I've been really busy. I'm still a bit busy, but hey, here I am. I'm so sorry for the wait, I'll try my best to make sure a break this long doesn't happen again until I finish!
> 
> Also, I realize that this chapter (or at least the restaurant scene) is painfully Americanized

A blaring sun lifted on the horizon, leveling just perfectly to disrupt every line of sight. The brightness invited a certain out of body feeling only achieved through means of being thrown into the fast moving, perfectly functioning world while you, yourself, can hardly drag the weight of your own feet across the floor. The world keeps moving regardless, sun continuing to coat the land below in unfiltered sunshine and happiness, blissfully ignoring the complaints of drunkards and couch potatoes alike.

Crimson eyes squinted at the late morning rays peeking through the large floor to ceiling window, dark circles deepening underneath. It was turning out to be another unbearably warm day, every metallic surface in sight displaying a blinding reflection. A dry heat was already beginning to mercilessly pelt the island, even through the mid morning haze. Pedestrians wearing scandalously small amounts of clothing meandered by, sun-kissed skin peeking through bits of fabric as the masses tried to avoid overheating. Bicycles zipped between buses and cars, making headway against the stop-and-go traffic clogging the streets. Dog type Allmates (the best sellers at the moment) trotted contently ahead of their masters, presumably enjoying the warm sunlight on their artificial fur.

It was a beautiful day. A completely normal, beautiful summer day to the inhabitants of this island.

A scarred hand rubbed at the hairdresser’s exposed crimson eye, slipping under the veil of dark hair to rub both temples with a thumb and middle finger.

“You said we were leaving to find Aoba, not sit at a restaurant.”

The man sitting across the booth focused on his mug of coffee, pouring the contents of a paper sweetener packet into the steaming liquid. Picking a dented spoon from the table, he sat back in the worn booth and stirred the coffee. The spoon clinked against the side of the mug a few times before being lifted out and placed on the countertop, the leather coated hand grabbing at the porcelain handle instead. Mizuki started, “To be fair, I didn’t say either of those things.” The mug rested under his nose, the strong scent of cheap coffee permeating his nostrils. “I told you to grab your sword and come with me, and you did.”

“That doesn’t-”

“You’re still hung over, yeah?”

Koujaku hesitated answering, weighing his options. After further consideration, it seemed best to comply with wherever Mizuki was trying to lead the conversation. Yes, there was a dull ache still coursing through his skull. Was that particularly on the forefront of his attention given the current situation? No. There were more important things to worry about now than a pain he had caused himself. This is Aoba, after all. There’s no time to be selfish.

A labored sigh left his lips along with his carefully chosen words as he answered, “A little.”

Taking a careful sip from the steaming mug, Mizuki replied, “Then shut up and drink your coffee.”

Koujaku obeyed in silence, gazing idly out of the window lining the booth. His hands wrapped around the mug placed in front of him, heat soaking through his palms. It felt nice, particularly nice with the persistent pounding echoing through his head. The pleasant warmth was reminiscent of a steamy shower, heated to the perfect degree. God, he could use a long shower right about now. The warm sensation made him all the more groggy as the world around him seemed to move on its own, busy patrons coming and going while he sat in his own slowly ticking time capsule. Letting out even breaths, his eyes slipped shut, if only for a moment before the man across the booth interrupted. “I need you in your right mind if this is going to work, right? I’m only asking you to trust me.”

Koujaku decided not to reply to that. Or rather, he couldn’t. Nothing he could say would make the conversation any less…. well, terrible. But, it feels so strange not to respond in some way. He’s normally a pretty talkative guy, friendly in nature. He’s always found solace in at least presenting the world with a smile, hoping to trick himself and everyone in his immediate vicinity that this is fine, everything’s fine, it’s always been fine, and it’s always going to be fine. This awkward silence is so uncharacteristic of him, even on his worst days. Sure, he’s had break downs. Hell, he’s destroyed his apartment in a blind rage one or two times (or seven) prior to scrap’s intervention. There was a particularly bad Mother’s Day a few years back, and the fateful day one of his team members died in an attempt to break up an unusually bad street fight.

But that’s no excuse. He’s always held his composure until he’s behind closed doors, shut everyone out, forbid them from viewing such a pathetic creature. He’d hide away, not answer calls, worry his team mates, his customers, even his closest friends. Nobody was permitted to see him until he had deemed himself presentable again. So, yeah, this awkward silence and show of absolute rawness in public, with a friend, no less, was foreign.

Customers blabbed on around them, silverware clicking against plates and glasses returning to tables. The air above the small booth remained stagnant, neither of the men leading the conversation further. Evenings with Mizuki had always been lively and full of light hearted banter, so this awkward silence was a first for both of them. Even on morning like this, where one or both of the men would wake up disoriented after their drinking had gotten out of hand, their attitudes were never quite this noticeably sour. Granted, they hadn’t had a good night of drinking for half a year, and this was turning out to be a rather shitty last run. Taking another sip of scolding coffee, Mizuki’s eyes drifted across the tabletop until coming to a stop at the other end, tilting his head to get a better view of what was hiding underneath. “How’s the dog?” He finally asked.

Koujaku practically had to tear himself away from his daze out of the window, having nearly fallen asleep with his eyes open. Looking at the leather-clad man across the way, he took a moment to clear the haziness from his mind and register the question. He blinked, eyebrows raised as he was suddenly reminded of the Allmate resting on his lap. “Ah,” He started, eyes shifting under the table as he leaned back for a better view, “He put himself to sleep again, hasn’t woken up since we left.” He rubbed two fingers through the Allmate’s fur, being careful not to trigger the startup function. The fur was soft under his touch, having just been groomed so thoroughly upon Ren’s return home. A solemn smile tugged at Koujaku’s lips as he viewed something so similar to his usual home life with Aoba.

Ren would often sit on his lap like this at home, tongue flopped out and fur spilling everywhere. He’d come home to be greeted by the Allmate, It’s been common practice for years now, since before he and Aoba lived together or even dated each other, for that matter. Ren was comfortable around him, and while it was strange, Koujaku wasn’t one to question a blessing that didn’t need questioning. The Allmate always appeared slightly standoffish, not rude or unapproachable, but very careful and set in his ways. He’d only known the Allmate since he came back to the island, but the small dog almost immediately warmed up to him. Aoba had laughed at Ren’s behavior that day; the first day Koujaku stayed for dinner since leaving all those years ago. The second he walked through the door, Ren darted across the house and towards the entrance, looking up at the older man and tilting his head, almost as if he was making sure of something.

Strangely enough, it had felt more like a “welcome back” than a “nice to meet you.”

Aoba had probably told the Allmate about their time together on the island.

Tae-san greeted him as usual, hollering at him for one thing or another. He loved Tae-san’s pestering, as disruptive as it may be. That familiar screeching voice sounded like home, even after all those years away.

Aoba was just as stubborn and downright adorable as ever, asking what he’d been up to for all these years with heightened curiosity. Those vibrant eyes would brighten with his stories; the ones he’d made up, of course. He never planned on revealing any truths about the events that unfolded on the mainland, not to Aoba. Whenever his beloved friend would ask about the scar across the bridge of his nose, he’s find a way to change the subject. It’s not like Aoba was trying to pry, anyway, he was just concerned that there had been an accident while he was gone. After all, he was wise enough to stop asking after it became obvious that Koujaku was avoiding the question all together. The origin of his scars was something he would take to his grave; his plan in the end, actually. Funny how things change, so very drastically at times. None of this would be possible if Aoba hadn’t welcomed him back to the island with open arms, been so accommodating in revitalizing their lost friendship. It was awkward as hell, but Aoba was trying, and that’s the best Koujaku could have asked for.

Even his childhood friend’s new Allmate circled his feet, welcoming him home like a part of the family.

He truly felt at home that day, for the first time since all concepts of ‘home’ were ripped from beneath him.

And now, years later, that very Allmate sits in his lap, worn and tired. At least this seems to be comforting to Ren, even if he’s in sleep mode. It’s pretty damn comforting to the hairdresser, as well.

Koujaku added under his breath, continuing to stare at the dog in his lap, “He doesn’t usually sleep when we’re outside like this, not unless he’s in Aoba’s bag.” Letting out a short breath, he peered up towards Mizuki and furrowed his brow. “Hope he’s alright.”

Mizuki smiled back, trying to comfort the other. “He’s probably just tired.”

The worry on Koujaku’s face slackened, forming into a sort of sad smile. He looked back down at the Allmate and continued slowly combing through his fur, readjusting his hips on the padded booth underneath. Hopefully Ren can sleep soundly and wake up without damage, since Koujaku knows next to nothing about Allmate repairs. Leading a territorial street gang with regular fights that induce blood and broken bones can lead to truly gruesome sights, but seeing this little guy in any sort of pain would be too much. Especially if Aoba were to see his beloved Allmate in any mechanical disarray; he’d be heartbroken. Koujaku was responsible for this, in one way or another.

The booth adjacent creaked under Mizuki’s weight as he leaned across the table, bumping an overflowing glass of water that they’d received after arriving and had allowed the ice to melt. Crossing his arms and resting them on the table, his head swiveled around and studied the surroundings. After observing the restaurant for a few passing seconds, he turned back towards the other and closed the distance; as if the two were prepubescent girls about to share a secret.

“Kyaaaa! He’s here!! Who’s your cute friend, Koujaku-san~?”

'Koujaku’s cute friend’ let out a startled noise in response to the comment before leaning back in his booth, defeated in his attempt at a serious discussion with the ever so popular Koujaku-san. He glanced at the group of women standing beside the booth, then back at the one who had involuntarily attracted the flock of females over. Koujaku visibly stiffened as he brought his hands off of the Allmate and prepared the most forced smile Mizuki had ever set eyes on.

“Oh…. My apologies, ladies. I’m afraid I’m rather busy at the moment.” The hairdresser said, a practiced calm demeanor and soothing tone in his voice.

Holy hell…. He really is good at this, Mizuki thought.

“That’s right,” the rival Rib leader chimed in, “I’m sure he’ll sign some autographs before you go, but thanks for stopping by.”

The kimono-clad man didn’t respond to that as he normally would, instead weaving his fingers together on the table and politely staring back at the women. After a moment of silence, he quietly nodded.

One of the women pouts before responding, “Koooou-jaku-san…. Can’t we sit with you?” She looks between the two of them, a playful smile on her lips. “If it’s about Rib teams….. we promise we won’t tell!”

Fuck. Mizuki’s had to deal with Casanova’s fans before, but the thought of having to deal with persistence this strong every day is grueling. Even though it was Koujaku’s fault for encouraging their behavior for so long, Mizuki felt a bit bad for him. Maybe even gained more respect for the guy. _Maybe._

Then, Mizuki noticed that Koujaku’s face had visibly soured. He let out a quiet sigh, shifting his body slightly to look at the women head on. “This isn't debatable, it's time that you leave. I can't waste my time on you right now.” Did…. he just raise his voice at the end there? That was almost intimidating. Granted, they’ve already overstayed their welcome, but that was a harder bite in his tone than Mizuki had ever heard Koujaku speak with to his fans. “I’ve asked you politely, now leave us to our business."

The group of women all simultaneously whipped their heads towards each other, eyes wide in disbelief that their ever-polite item of affection would scold them so harshly. Seizing the opportunity, Mizuki locates Koujaku’s shin underneath the table and gives it a swift kick with the pointed heel of his boot.

Making a sudden but half-bitten off strained noise at the Rib leader’s attack, Koujaku glares across the table before quickly directing his attention to the women in the isle, facial features still pulled tightly with irritation. The woman closest to Koujaku stood up straight and quickly sputtered an apology. “I’m sorry… It was rude to interrupt your brunch… I’m sorry, Koujaku-san!” She turned on her heels, shoving the other women to the side as she ran through the parted crowd and towards the exit. The remaining group of women all bowed apologetically and hurriedly followed suit.

Mizuki narrowed his eyes in thought as he stared off towards the café entrance, the door now swinging shut.

_What the fuck is 'brunch’?_

He was thrown from his thoughts when Koujaku muttered something under his breath while rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Glancing back towards the man, Mizuki immediately leaned over the table with aggression. “Mind telling me what the hell that was?” His voice was low, obviously trying to avoid causing more of a scene, but agitated in tone.

Suddenly affronted, Koujaku tenses up again at Mizuki’s action. “What-”

“I know you’re stressed, but you still have a reputation to uphold. You can’t just yell at your customers. Do they usually cry like that?”

Koujaku hardly lets Mizuki finish speaking as he bites out, “Are you going to help me find Aoba, or should I leave?”

Mizuki crosses his arms and falls back into his seat, a searing glare directed towards the ladykiller. Beni, previously resting peacefully in sleep mode on the scratched countertop, protests as a gloved hand grabs him and pulls him closer. Mizuki angrily pets the small bird in his hold, trying his hardest not to kick Koujaku right in the balls.

He has a perfect shot, too.

Instead, he settles for an attempt to stagnate the man’s anger. “If you leave, I’ll go find Aoba on my own. I just figured this would be easier. Look,” Mizuki holds his hands above the table, gesturing as he’s talking. “What I’m saying is, we start searching; but we start searching smart. Get more teams, find the right connections, cover more area. Doesn’t Aoba deserve that? Without a full on man hunt, it'll take days to find him. Maybe even weeks. Think about it; two people trying to cover this entire Island?"

Immediately interrupting, Koujaku blurts out, "But we know where he is! He's with Scratch!"

"And last I heard, the leader of Scratch hasn't been seen for months! Everyone in that team is practically rogue, you know. Not to mention, the help would be useful even if they are in that old territory. You can't just wander over there and knock on their door. They have _guns_ , Koujaku." Mizuki finishes his statement with a huff, sliding back in his booth as if he'd just argued with his parents.

Koujaku stays silent, distracting himself by quietly petting the Allmate on his lap.

“If Scratch took him, some other teams might know more about it. It’s a good place to start; try to get some information, y'know? If we’ve got some weird Rib hostage situation on out hands, it’ll be bad if we rush out without thinking.”

Under his breath, Mizuki can hear a hushed, “Fine.”

Why the hell is he being so difficult? Yeah, this situation isn’t exactly a good one, but Koujaku is acting….. weird. Well, weirder than usual. Even if those women needed a bit of a push to leave them be, his behavior is irritating and confusing. Everything he does just seems so…. not-Koujaku. Is this what happens when he drops the 'successful playboy’ act? Finally, Mizuki chimes in again, “Hey, we’ll find him, okay?” To that, Koujaku continues staring down at the small dog in his lap.

Well, that’s better than anger.

“So,” He awkwardly continues, “I’m going to call a few people, got it? After that, I know someone who-”

Koujaku suddenly slides out of the booth, disrupting the other’s train of thought. Seeming out of it, he tucks Ren into his kimono as he readies himself to leave. Before Mizuki can ask where he’s going, the man mutters, “Smoke.”

………. Really?

That…. doesn’t seem right. Sure, Koujaku’s known to smoke, but it’s not usually stress induced. He’ll have a smoke after a good fight, or during a night out, but during an emergency..? He’s never done that before. Whatever. It’ll get Koujaku out of his hair long enough to get some actual work done. So he nods, the coil on his wrist demanding attention as one of the contacts pops up with a notification. See? It’s going fine. They’ll find Aoba soon and all of this will be back to normal. _Go have your smoke now, dumbass. This case is gonna be blown wide open by the time you’re back._

Another coil notification. Looks like the leaders of a few smaller, less rebellious teams have agreed to keep an eye out. Perfect. That’s a lot of progress already, even if it doesn’t immediately show results. Maybe they can even offer a reward. Koujaku’s bound to have some cash he can spare for a cause like this. Although, maybe Mizuki won’t tell him about a reward. He seems to be stubborn towards any outward call for help. What a child.

With the teams contacted, Mizuki figures the next best plan of action is to locate his information outlet. All Koujaku has to do now is follow him, he can handle that, right? His plan to calm the hairdresser’s nerves by taking him to get coffee and discuss search plans went south so quickly, it puts a damper on any of Mizuki’s brilliant ideas. Hell, he’s debating completely dropping Koujaku to search on his own at this point. He’s proving to be very heavy, very impulsive dead-weight.

Nah… better go get him. Mizuki grabs Beni, (who lets out quite the squawk at the sudden handling) then hops out of his seat as he makes his way towards the register. Retrieving the wallet from his pants pocket, (leather, of course) his fingers search for quick cash, wanting to hurry up and pay the restaurant for the coffee they’d consumed, then continue on their quest. Just as he locates what he’s looking for, he looks up as a thought occurs to him.

Isn’t it kind of weird that he took Ren with him to go smoke? And for that matter.... Does Koujaku even have any cigarettes with him? Usually he bums one off of...

Then, he looks outside and notices something. Or, rather, doesn’t notice something.

Koujaku is gone.

_Shit._

He stuffs his wallet back into his pocket, taking long strides towards the exit. That bastard, he better not have run off on his own. He’s just not next to the building, right? Mizuki throws the doors open, looking each way multiple times, studying the cars and faces in the scene unfolding before him. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he calls for the man, hoping to see a head turn, a wave, anything.

Nothing.

God damn it. He should have known the second Koujaku mentioned anything about smoking. He tries calling out one more time, mostly for his own benefit. “Koujaku, you piece of shit! Get your ass back here and help me!” And, shockingly, no reply.

Raising his wrist to look at his coil, he pulls up the menu as his boots hit the pavement.

 

* * *

 

**[Coil Message: Mizuki]**  
You forgot your bird, jackass

_Of course…._

It’s not important now. Mizuki has him, so he’ll be alright. With that thought in mind, he switches his coil to silent. He doesn’t need Beni right now, anyway. It’s not like he needs any navigation, he knows where he’s going. He can sense a Scratch member from a mile away, dirty convicts that they are. He’d never excuse his actions, never be truly convinced that his actions have morally landed him in a better standing than the common criminal, but at least he could take solace in the fact that he would never willingly sink to their level. Blowing up buildings, mugging….. kidnapping? It’s disgusting.

As he walks, Ren wakes up and quietly chimes from inside his Kimono.

“Koujaku. Against your chest, I can easily tell that your heart rate has increased. I must advise you to focus on your breathing."

Koujaku ignores him. Or rather, doesn’t hear him. He can’t hear much of anything, really. Blood is pumping in his ears, dulling all other sounds. Nothing matters but his current objective. Nothing matters but Aoba. Just Aoba. Aoba. Aoba, Aoba, Aoba, Aoba. _Aoba. Aoba. Aoba._ _Koujaku-_

His eyes widen at that, breath catching in his throat as he’s brought back to reality.

"Koujaku,” the small (yet strangely deep) voice calls from his kimono again. “Please focus on your breathing, Koujaku. Your health will quickly deteriorate at this current rate.”

“Right… my bad.”

“Where is Beni?”

Oh my god, I left him with Mizuki. Why did I do that? I can’t think….

“He’s….” He starts, fading off before he can think of a way to explain himself. Ren isn’t stupid, by any means. In fact, he’s infuriatingly smart. All allmates have access to an ever expanding database of information that makes them 'smart’, of course, but Ren… well, he’s got experience to boot. He knows Aoba and Koujaku extraordinarily well, and he’s not easy to fool. He knows that Koujaku doesn’t let Beni out of his sight unless they’re at home, so how is he supposed to explain this strange behavior to Ren when he can’t even explain it to himself? “He’s with Mizuki. It’s fine, we won’t take long,” Is all he can muster.

Won’t take long? That’s definitely a lie.

Silently hoping that Ren can’t read his thoughts, he continues walking, surprised at how accepting of that answer the small fluffball is. Maybe he’s just choosing not to press it further…

They walk in silence, slowly making their way towards Scratch territory. They have a relatively large area, and it’s hard to say exactly which abandoned building he’ll find the members (or Aoba) in. Most residents who aren’t a part of Scratch know to avoid that district all together, so he doesn’t really have any mental blueprints to go off of. Once he’s made it to the territory, he’ll just have to make it up as he goes. Scratch has made a name for itself, and that name generally states, “Don’t bother entering our territory if you value your life”

So that’s it, then. If it’s for Aoba, his life is a small price to pay. Insignificant, really.

It’s about mid-day, maybe earlier. He’s too focused to check his coil for the time right now anyway. And it’s probably blowing up with messages from Mizuki. Or maybe he’s just convinced himself that he’s too busy to deal with the ticking time bomb on his wrist. Ignorance is bliss, after all. Regardless, Koujaku figures that he should be able to make it to Scratch territory by sundown. He briefly wonders if it would be better to attempt a rescue mission by night or by day….. this isn’t something that he has experience in. At least there’s plenty of time to consider every outcome on the walk there, he’ll certainly use that to his advantage. Overthinking has always been his strong suit, something Aoba can usually tame. Maybe they’ll demand a cash reward or something for Aoba’s release. That’s fine. He’ll pay whatever he has to. Not that it matters; anyone stupid enough to pull this shit with Aoba, _his_ Aoba, won’t live to see another day.

Derailing his train of thought, Ren decides to pipe up again, “Your heart rate appears to have slowed again.”

Koujaku huffs, somehow amused at that useless information. “So it has…”

“Koujaku.”

His tone sounds a bit worried. Well, more than a bit. It almost makes the hairdresser feel bad for getting so worked up.

“Mm,” Koujaku half-heartedly responds.

Ren hesitates, as if he’s having trouble finding the right words.

_Well, that’s a first._

“Koujaku is important to me, too.”

What was that?

About to voice his confusion, Koujaku opens his mouth, only to close it as Ren continues. “If Aoba is not well, Koujaku worries and his health drops steadily. I am also worried about Aoba, however, your well being in this situation concerns me. I am also noticing district behavioral changes, and unusual interactions.”

Of all things, this manages brings a slight smile to Koujaku’s lips. Even if Aoba is in terrible danger, he’ll allow himself to bask in that small (and somewhat rare) show of affection, just for a moment. The only reply he manages is, “My bad…”

Koujaku considers, for the slightest hint of a moment, that he’s not alone in his march towards what could be certain death.

As much as that bothers him, stubbornness be damned, he’ll think about it later. Aoba can’t afford any more delays.

But Ren is right. He is acting weird. Completely insane, actually. Koujaku can’t really explain his thought process behind leaving the one person who was actually trying to help him, not to mention his own Allmate. He guesses, the only explanation is that he wasn’t thinking. He can’t think. He feels like a beast driven purely on instinct; the aggression of an alpha baring his fangs at anything and everything that isn’t his chosen mate. It’s disgusting.

He’s coming apart, and he knows it. He’s been aware of it for hours. There’s no excuse for this selfish and downright strange behavior, but that monster under his skin doesn’t listen to reason. There’s a really annoying sore on his tongue now, something that steadily sharpening teeth tends to leave behind. Such a pain.... and these claws starting to dig into his palms are nearly drawing blood.

Koujaku knows what he's bound to become if this continues for much longer. He knows what he is. Every step forward is proof of his guilt.

Maybe that's why he felt the need to leave Mizuki's side so suddenly. If they don't find Aoba soon, there's going to be a problem.

Regardless of how loudly his head is screaming at him to not loose sight of himself again, the pounding in his chest, and the sound of his feet upon the ground seems to overpower everything else and drive his journey forward. All that's left to think about is finding Aoba and getting this under control. It's a two step process, really. Easy as that.

As they pass a not-particularly-exciting-or-remarkable alley, narrowly woven through the main streets of Midorijima, Ren suddenly perks up. Koujaku almost doesn’t notice him hopping down to the concrete sidewalk until he nearly trips over him, a small mass of fur fumbling between the man’s legs.

For a brief moment, his thousand yard stare is broken. “Oi, Ren…! Be careful-” Before he can finish, Ren quickly darts off towards the alley.

“Ren, wait!”

_No, no, no! Not you, too._

Hurriedly following the Allmate, he turns the street corner and runs down the alley in what has to be the least exciting live chase Midorijima has ever witnessed.

As if deciding to grant his wish, Ren detours towards a dumpster, circling around it. His small footpads brace against the cold metal as he balances upright, trying everything in his power to get closer to the lid. After multiple failed attempts to hop up on his own, he pads back over to Koujaku, pawing at his shoes.

“I require assistance.”

“I noticed.” Koujaku rubs at the skin under the curtain of hair covering half of his face. Will these detours ever end? He bends down and picks the Allmate up, scowling at him as he asks, “Are you going to sit still? Jeez, and here I thought Aoba had spoiled you into being the perfect purse dog...”

Ren fidgets in his arms, fighting with Koujaku’s grasp until he manages to slip out and push off against the man’s arms, standing atop the closed dumpster in his tiny victory.

“I was able to connect to Aoba’s coil as we came within range. The signal is coming from inside this container.”

Koujaku’s heart drops at hearing that, and he suddenly can’t focus again. Any slight moment of clairvoyance about his current situation is ripped out of his chest, along with his beating heart. He stares at the dumpster, unable to move. Clearly….. Ren has to be wrong about this. This is far too anticlimactic. He’d never wish for Aoba to be harmed in the first place, but a battle to the death against a rogue gang has a hell of a lot more respect to it than turning up in a dumpster. He could have at least waited for Koujaku to show up, guns-a-blazing.

No, this can’t be how it ends. Aoba is stronger than this. Koujaku simply will not allow this.

Springing into action, he flings one side of the lid open (thankfully, not the side Ren had been standing on). He calls out, for no reason in particular as he does so. “Aoba…!”

And he’s greeted with an empty dumpster. Well, almost empty. There’s a small, pink device illuminating the darkness at the bottom of the bin  
  
The Rib leader lets out a shaky breath, still recovering from the rush of what could have been the discovery of his boyfriend’s corpse carelessly tossed into a dumpster. He reaches down, taking the coil and holding it up to examine it. Someone must have thrown it in there after taking it off of Aoba. Bastards…. He notices that the screen is now cracked, having been carelessly tossed inside. When he brings the screen up, he sees exactly what he’d expect. Multiple calls and texts from himself and Mizuki, and a low battery warning.

Something about that makes his stomach churn. Of course Aoba wouldn’t have seen any of those messages if he hadn’t responded, but witnessing the failed contacts first hand is… well, it’s surreal. It serves as a solemn reminder of just how hopeless this all feels. Aoba never would have even known that they were looking for him...

From beside him, he hears a small, defeated voice say, “I’m sorry, Koujaku.”

Koujaku takes a moment to compose himself, closing his eyes as he breathes deeply. Without another word, he hooks the watch around his left wrist, sitting snuggly along side the pearl bracelets he wears. He then scoops Ren up again, settling him comfortably inside of his kimono as he turns back towards the Main Street.

They have a long walk ahead of them.


	7. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long and agonizing walk, Aoba and Clear finally make their way back into the city in hopes of a reunion with Koujaku.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanders in over a year late with Starbucks
> 
> sup.
> 
> As I said, I never truly gave up on this fic. I want to finish this story, damn it. For some reason, I've been super motivated to write lately, so I'm gonna hammer the rest of this out before bed and during my downtime at work. It's been so long since this thing was started, I just hope that I can make some people happy that I'm updating again. NEVER LOSE HOPE, MY DUDES. DO NOT GIVE IN.

"You really don't need to do this, Clear. I don't want to be a bother."

'Be a bother'? It's a bit past that point now, isn't it? This must qualify as an all out emergency, at this point. Regardless, Aoba made sure to put up as much resistance as he could when Clear insisted on escorting him home. He can't just accept so much dedication from someone who wasn't even involved with this mess in the first place, it's just not in his nature to be so reliant on others. The thought of practically being dragged across the island by a companion was embarrassing enough, let alone the amount of stubbornness he'd have to set aside if, God forbid, his legs gave out on him and he needed a helping hand. But Clear stayed firm, not letting the bloodied and bruised man leave the house without his supervision. And, as much as Aoba had fought the concept of having a helping hand, he knew it was for the best. If his legs did give out on him, it wouldn't be a good idea to be out on his own. Granny had always done such a good job of instilling that 'if you lie on the ground outside, you'll catch a cold and die' mentality. Well.... maybe not worded quite like that, but the message was still the same. Passing out again just won't do since he's already broken that rule once today. Though, this probably isn't the situation granny had in mind with those teachings.

Not to mention that, Clear obviously brought him all the way here, so he should know the way back. He's so used to having Ren's mapping technology beside him at all times, so trying to make his way through the city streets without constant direction is more than a little nerve-wracking. In fact, having Clear with him has already paid off, because he has _absolutely no idea where he is_ and they've hardly left the front yard. (If you can call it a front yard. It's a bit of a..... well, a dump.)

"But... Master is still limping." Clear blurts out in concern, interrupting the man's thought process.

Aoba immediately sighs, feeling himself become annoyed already. Jeez, he doesn't remember being this irritable, especially towards someone who's done nothing but help him out of multiple terrible situations. He figures it's excusable just this once, since most people would agree that it's been a.... challenging day, to put it lightly. "I've told you, call me Aoba. I want to be called 'Aoba'. Please?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, Aoba-san."

 _Close enough_. Still a bit formal for his liking, but he'll take what he can get. He'll take almost anything that remotely resembles his name over that 'master' business. Even that improvement does bother him, though. After everything that happened before Oval Tower, and with how much Clear visits him, does he still not consider himself a close enough friend worthy of dropping the unnecessary honorifics? Even if he's just trying to be respectful, it's a little disappointing. All of these surnames were so unnecessary, it just served to make Clear all the more foreign to him. It's natural to act politely in company, but it feels like there's a brick wall between them when it comes to getting comfortable. Of course, the gas mask probably contributes to about 96% of the distance between them. What the hell was he hiding? It's not like he'd ever ask, Aoba has better manners than that. Besides, he spends everyday with someone who refuses to leave the house without covering half of his face. He understood why, but... It's still upsetting to see.

Aoba's always been understanding when Koujaku leaves the house with his hair masking such a large portion of his face, but that doesn't mean he has to like it. He hates it, actually. When Koujaku walks around the apartment without his kimono, or with his hair slicked back, (or even on lucky days... both. Those days are fantastic.) Aoba's heart flutters. He's aware of how painful the tattoos and scars are to Koujaku, but they really do look good on him. The tattoos themselves are beautiful, and they fit almost too well along the older male's tight muscles. And Koujaku has such a handsome face, even with a scar across the front of it. Aoba's come to love that scar, too, though Koujaku himself hates that he has to wear it so prominently.

It's part of what makes Koujaku..... Koujaku. And as much as Aoba gives him a hard time about being embarrassing or being a little too affectionate sometimes, he wouldn't change a single thing. That's the Koujaku he's always loved, regardless of how much different he looks from when they were kids. He's realized that much over time; that there never was a Koujaku that he didn't know. He used to view the scars and tattoos as another side of him, but now he knows better. They _are_ Koujaku, even if the man himself hates them. Aoba will never lose sight of that.

With Koujaku having such a heartbreaking reason for his hiding, it makes Aoba's mind wander when he thinks of what could be under that gas mask. Maybe he'll find out one of these days; on Clear's terms. There's really no other way of doing it.

Well, unless he just grabbed the mask and tore it off or something. That's not an option, though. As tempting as it sounds. He'll settle for daydreaming about it instead.

When Clear speaks again, Aoba must have jumped a foot in the air, as if he had somehow forgotten who was walking next to him. His mind wandered so much that he went and forgot where he was. "Is Koujaku-san worried about you?"

After allowing his heart to settle, (damn, he's so jumpy today. For good reason, anyway) he replies, "Ah..... yeah, probably. That's why I need to get home. Well, and I'm supposed to work today." Yeah, that's not happening. Poor Haga-san is going to have a heart attack when he sees the mess Aoba's made of himself. It's not like he wants pity, but it's painfully obvious that he won't be able to run deliveries for a while. Speaking of.... Granny can't see him like this, that's not something he wants to put her through after all the trouble he caused when he was younger.

There's a comfortable silence in the air as he stares up at the sky, noting what a nice day it is. It's a shame that he isn't in better shape, it's a great day for a walk. Hardly any clouds, perfectly sunny..... a little too hot, but manageable. How does Clear wear that big jacket all the time? He must be burning up...

Just then, a thought pops into Aoba's head.  
Well, less of a pop. It's more of an idea explosion.

"Clear," he shouts in excitement, shaking his shoulder, "Do you have a coil? If I can remember Koujaku's number, you can call him and make sure he knows I'm okay! I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner. We've gotta call him before he does something stupid-"

"Eh? A coil...." Clear seems a bit taken back, but ponders the question with a hum. "I had one, but a mean dog broke it."

"A.... dog? Seriously, what's with you and the dogs? They really don't like you...."

"Yes. I can't replace it now, so it's alright."

Aoba wonders what that means, finding that he's asking that exact question out loud. "Can't replace it?"

"Grandpa gave it to me, so now... I can't use it. Don't you have a coil, Aoba-san? Don't tell me.... the dogs took yours, too!?"

Aoba blinks, trying to interpret everything that had just been thrown in his direction. "Huh..? N-no, the dogs didn't break my coil. But I don't have it anymore, either, so...."

Grandpa.... Aoba wasn't stupid, he could put together a general idea of what Clear was talking about. Even though his interests were peaked, he didn't want to overstep his bounds. Obviously his grandfather was important to him, so Clear can't bring himself to replace the coil his grandfather had gifted him. Either that, or he just doesn't know how to get another one. Clear's brain just seems to work in a different way than Aoba would expect, so he's constantly assessing every possible point of view in an attempt to understand where he's coming from. Though, he's never been able to have this close of a conversation with Clear before. Run-ins with Clear don't usually extend beyond the standard 'Mastaaaaah~'and daily greetings. He'll tell a few stories about what he's seen around the island, wait for Koujaku to ruffle his hair, and leave. Actually hearing Clear talk about himself is intriguing, Aoba can almost feel that wall between them getting a little thinner. The circumstances are unfortunate, yes, but this is still kinda.... nice.

"Well," Aoba continues, feeling more confident about their conversations, "I guess that's where my idea ends, then. It's fine, don't worry about it. Getting home is good enough."

As they walked, he noticed the scenery change around him. It had slowly transitioned from an almost rural area (although there weren't many areas on the island that weren't developed at this point; just slightly less developed than the city center), to a sprawling industrial skyline. Dusty buildings around the city's edge welcomed them with some much appreciated shade after walking in a mostly uninterrupted, sun-drenched area for a while now. Aoba turned his back to the building and leaned against the cool wall for a moment, letting out a relieved breath. His body had really begun to ache now and was begging him to rest. As appealing as that sounded, he needed to get home as soon as possible. Not only does he need to check for injuries, but he can rest all he wants once he gets there. In his own comfy bed, at that. Not to mention..... he most likely needed some help checking over his body to asses the damage, and having anyone other than Koujaku do that would be mortifying. The only other option would be a hospital, but since he's been able to walk this far and isn't too terrible short of breath either, he figures he should be okay. probably. his limbs certainly aren't broken, he's not missing any teeth, and he doesn't feel like any ribs are broken. Then again, Aoba doesn't know what a broken rib feels like in the first place. It'd be noticeable, right? One of those things that you acknowledge, _'huh, that feels like one of my ribs has been misplaced and is now stabbing into my internal organs'_

..... That's enough of that, he's starting to feel sick now.

After gathering his thoughts, it becomes incredibly hard to ignore the fact that Clear is staring at him. Most likely; eye contact is a little bit of a guessing game with that mask. Aoba can't help but let out a small laugh, just kind of amused at how absolute bat-shit insane his day has been. "What? What's wrong?"

Clear speaks up, confirming Aoba's suspicions that he was, indeed, staring. "Does.... Aoba-san want me to carry him again?"

It's endearing how Aoba can tell he really tried to forget the 'master' thing for now, even hesitating as he corrected himself, and he hopes Clear can understand subtle enough social cues to pick up on how grateful he is for it.

"Ah, no, it's alright. I just needed a second. But... the more I sit still, the more my legs ache, so let's keep going."

He can't quite tell, but Clear seems somewhat disappointed by that answer. As much extra pain as the help would prevent, Aoba's pride simply won't allow it. He's gonna walk home on his own two achy feet, damn it.

As he pushes off from the wall and continues following Clear's lead, his mind begins to wander again.

Ren is gone...... no, not gone. He's just lost. Once he gets home, he and Koujaku can figure this out. Don't think of it like that, Ren is just.... misplaced. After all, he's a very smart little Allmate. He'll get himself home, or at least keep out of danger until Aoba is able to find him. It'll be fine. Just get home. It's fine. In fact, Ren's probably already waiting for him at home. The blue haired man can't help but crack a smile as he indulges in the thought of opening Koujaku's front door..... no, _their_ front door, and seeing his adoring boyfriend holding his adorable little pup. This ordeal has really made him sappy.... he wants to give Koujaku a hug. Maybe a little part of him deep inside feels guilty about snapping at him not to worry and check in on him, and then he went and got himself beaten up and lovingly kidnapped.

Actually, a pretty big part of him right up on the surface is feeling that guilt now that he had that thought. Stupid brain.

It was true, though.... of course he's still the victim of a random act of violence, but Aoba can't push down the steadily rising guilt in his chest once he considers what Koujaku's been feeling this whole time. Actually, the attack wasn't entirely random. This is ultimately Koujaku's fault for being involved in Rib teams to begin with. No.... that's not fair. Rib isn't the safest hobby, for sure, but Benishigure and even Dry Juice don't usually attract this kind of attention. If you attack a no-mark or even get too unruly you can get yourself kicked off of the team. Both teams liked to flex their muscles in front of each other by fighting, sure, but isn't this supposed to be a group affair? Two members aren't supposed to move in on one unsuspecting rival member, that defeats the whole purpose. The most organized and agile gang who can hold themselves in a fight is superior, so why do something as shady as beating someone down in an alley? Benishigure is only barely a street gang in the first place, the members seem more interested in enacting some fantasy about vigilante justice. With the corrupt police force on the island, that wasn't a bad idea, in theory. Rib teams didn't do much to cause or prevent his situation. Something like this was unavoidable; just dumb kids looking for a fight to pick.

But still.... what awful timing. This wouldn't be half as bad if he hadn't mentioned that incident the other morning. Fuck, Koujaku must be freaking out right about now. With that picture in mind, he feels just a teaspoon more energy on the journey home. It's not much, considering how his body is practically shutting down at this point, but it's enough to keep him going.

As they turn another corner, Aoba suddenly recognizes the street. He shouts in excitement, "This is, uh- that street by the Jerry Blaine store..... Aomomiji Street! We're on Aomomiji Street! Oh my god, I could cry." Overcome with a sudden wave of gratitude, Aoba turns on his heels and throws his arms around the mysterious gas mask wearing man behind him. "Thank you- thank you so much, Clear."

Clear seems surprised for a moment, then tilts his head once Aoba lets go. "Eh? Aoba-san, is this where you wanted to arrive?"

"Oh, no, it's just that I know my way around this area. Home isn't far, it's just around-" As Aoba turns and outstretches his arm to point in the direction of Koujaku's apartment, he notices two very familiar traditional Japanese style clad figures running up the street at amazing speed.

"AAAOOBAAA-SAAAAN!!" The figure calls out to him, waving his arms in an attempt to get Aoba's attention, regardless of the fact that he was staring directly at him. Aoba displayed his best _'I'm doing fine and not about to fall over, actually, thanks for asking'_ smile and raised a hand in a low wave, staying in place as he waited for the men to reach him.

Kou finally made it and curled over, supporting himself on his knees while he tried to catch his breath. Hagima was lagging a bit behind, appearing to have a little less expendable energy than his partner. After a few seconds of recovery, Kou stood up straight and placed his hands on Aoba's shoulders. He started, "Aoba-san, I'm so glad we found you! Even with everyone else searching, Team Benishigure closes another case!~" Kou makes a quick arm movement, and it looks like a victory pose he's been waiting to use for this very moment. Once Hagima catches up, he's a little less celebratory.

"Aoba-san! What happened to your eye? Koujaku-san and Mizuki-san sent every Rib team they could contact to find you, half of Midorijima must be looking for you." Hagima added, bringing the conversation back down to Earth.

"Ah....." Aoba felt his face heat up; he's never had that many people looking out for him before... thank god Kou and Hagima were the ones to find him first, then. He can only handle so much attention right now with his current appearance. He rubbed his head, feeling like he was officially out of energy. "It's.... a long story. I got jumped, so most of my stuff is gone. No coil, no.... Allmate. I just got back into town, so you can let Koujaku know that I'm okay."

Kou opens his coil and scrolls through the screen, still feeling proud that he beat the entire island's populous in Koujaku-san's treasure hunt. He calls up his leader as quickly as possible, waiting patiently as the ringer sounds once..... twice...... three times...... four......

Aoba rolls his eyes, remembering how Koujaku wouldn't answer his coil for Kou and Hagima a while back, but picked up almost instantly once he himself had called. Too bad it's not his name showing up on Koujaku's screen....

Kou looks a little disappointed once the line disconnects, but reassures Aoba by muttering, "Mizuki-san is the one who called us first, so he should pick up," as he changes contacts and attempts another call. The line picks up before the first ring even finishes, making the group reflexively release a breath they'd been holding. Kou opts for a video call, switching on the camera function as Mizuki's face appears on his screen.

"Yo, Kou. Any updates?"

"Mizuki-saaan, look who we found!" he turns around so that Aoba's face can be seen just over Kou's shoulder in the screen. Mizuki places a hand over his eyes in obvious relief, huge smile showing through. He runs the hand down his face and looks back into the camera, starting to speak again.

"Holy shit, Aoba. I've never been more glad to see you.... You look like shit."

"Yeah, I know. I got jumped, but Clear helped-" As Aoba swung around to find the man in question, he didn't find much of anything. People were walking up and down the street, but none of them wearing gas masks. He must have slipped away once all the commotion had started... Aoba makes a mental note to thank him properly the next time he shows up. He turns back to the camera, Mizuki looking a bit confused. "Anyway, where's Koujaku? We can't get ahold of him."

Mizuki remains silent for a few seconds too long; there's no way the call lagged for that long when the service had been perfect just a moment earlier. "Kou, Hagima, get him home. I'll meet you there as soon as possible." Before Aoba can get another word in, the call disconnects and he's left staring at the empty background of Kou's coil screen. (Aoba's not surprised that it's got a dog picture as the background)

Hagima is the first to speak up, all of them left confused by that answer. "Well.... new mission, Kou. Mizuki-san is our honorary leader for today."

Kou makes another victory pose as Hagima and Aoba begin walking towards the apartment. _"Team Benishigureeee, mission start!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I self-beta'd this at midnight so I apologize for any typos and such. And just a quick note that I started picturing Kou dabbing as his little victory pose and now I can't stop, so enjoy that.


	8. Retreat & Regroup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang finally have a sit-down to discuss their next move, only to discover that they may be working with a very short time limit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nyehehe, things are heating up. I don't have much to say about this one, just that I'm excited to start wrapping this up soon! The next chapter is gonna be a lot of fun (but not for the reason you think :3c)

Aoba falls backwards onto the bed he normally shares with his boyfriend, splaying his arms out and closing his eyes as he let out a relieved breath. Considering how he had woken up this morning, being able to lie down in his own bed is just about the best feeling he could be experiencing right now. His entire body aches, and his feet feel like they were completely rubbed raw from all that walking. That’s right, he was going to check himself for injuries when he got home…. he should probably also take a shower. Well, that certainly isn’t happening now. He’ll do it after he has a little bit of rest…. just a few minutes…… he’s so tired.   
  
Hagima awkwardly clears his throat in the hallway leading to the bedroom, not wanting to intrude on Aoba’s space. “Ah, Aoba-san?” He finally pipes up, “Is it alright if we come in?”   
  
Aoba was so ready to lie down that he had completely forgotten about his guests. How rude of him. Without opening his eyes, he calls out, “Y-yeah…. it’s alright. Please make yourselves at home.”   
  
Kou was the first to enter the room, looking all over the place. He’d never seen the inside of Koujaku’s room before, and it was no doubt exciting. Kou notices all of the blue clothing messily thrown into piles around the laundry basket, while Koujaku’s collection of outfits were neatly tucked away. “Whoa….” Kou examines the room some more, taking a seat next to Aoba on the edge of the bed. “Aoba-san and Koujaku-san are such good friends…. even sharing a room!”   
  
Aoba cracks open his eyes and turns his head to the side, sharing a silent moment of eye contact with Hagima. The look conveyed a sense of ‘is he really that oblivious?’ from Aoba’s side, along with a 'yes, he really is’ from the other. Neither of them speak up, deciding this wasn’t the time or place for such a conversation. Aoba turns his head back towards the ceiling, closing his eyes again without a second thought. “I just need to rest my eyes for a few minutes….”   
  
Kou taps rhythmically on his leg with his fingers, not knowing what to do while awkwardly sitting in someone else’s bedroom. He notes how comfortable the bed is, and could definitely understand why Aoba was so quick to head straight there after such an ordeal. Hagima doesn’t know what to do with himself either, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Hagima almost feels like a bodyguard now, watching over who was essentially the second most powerful person in Benishigure. Hell, maybe even the most powerful. He knows how important Aoba is to Koujaku, and how stubborn Aoba would act around the man…. he was most likely pulling most of the strings. Either way, everyone on the team had a great respect for their leader, so they have learned to respect Aoba as well. They always had, but especially after it became clear there was a bit more going on… well, they’d be damned if they let anything get in the way of Koujaku’s happiness. Aoba was one of them, now. A figure to be respected and, if needed, protected. So, he’ll stand here for as long as it takes. Aoba’s gotten into trouble already, it’s their responsibility to keep it from happening again.   
  
Lost in that train of thought, he’s almost startled when Kou speaks up from the bed. He had pivoted towards Aoba, ever so lightly shaking his arm. “Aoba-san, when was the last time you ate?” Kou is met with only the sound of labored breathing as Aoba had immediately dozed off.   
  
“Let’s let him rest for a bit, Kou. He needs it.”   
  
“Yeah… alright, let’s go to the living room.” Kou carefully stands up from the bed as Aoba rolls over, curling up and getting more comfortable. “Oyasumi, Aoba-san.” He makes a quick bow as he backs out of the room, slowly closing the door behind him. Kou then turns on his heels before walking down the hallway to meet with Hagima in the living room, sitting on the sofa as his partner leans against another wall. “It feels weird to be in here without Koujaku-san, right? Like we’re gonna get in trouble…”   
  
Hagima cracks a small smile at that, shaking his head. “It’s fine, Aoba-san is here. Getting him home was most important, once Mizuki-san gets here we’ll probably head out.” Kou nods at that, pulling up his coil to check the time. He wonders when Mizuki will get here…. and what he wants to talk about. It’s strange that Koujaku didn’t answer, especially considering he was supposed to be with Mizuki. At least, they were together when Mizuki had first contacted him. Had they split up to cover more ground? That’s probably it. Mizuki probably told Koujaku that they were headed home with Aoba and to meet him there.   
  
After a few more minutes of silence pass between the two, Kou pipes up again.   
  
“Hey, do you think Koujaku-san will reward us for finding Aoba-san first?”   
  
Hagima seems put off by that question as he responds, “Why? Aoba-san is safe, that’s what matters.”   
  
“Yes, of course! I was just thinking…. Koujaku-san’s so badass, I hope he gives us a new title, like… 'Benishigure; Search and Rescue Rangers.’ Serving Midorijima one emergency at a time!”   
  
“That’s not a thing.”   
  
“But it _could_ be.”   
  
Just as Hagmina is about to get into a ridiculous conversation, they hear a hurried knock on the front door. Both of them dart up from their spots and go running towards the door, overwhelmingly curious and hoping for answers about the situation. Like school children, they shove each other out of the way in the narrow hallway in an attempt to reach the door first, Kou sticking his tongue out and humming triumphantly just a split-second before opening the door. Hagima punches Kou’s arm, not enough to do any real damage, but enough to hurt. Kou makes a strange noise as the door swings open in front of him. “Muu-! …. uuuzuki-san! It’s good to see you!”   
  
Unphased by the strange behavior, Mizuki pushes his way past them and into the apartment. Kou closes the door behind him, following the rival leader down the hallway again. Just as he’s about to open his mouth, Mizuki reaches into his jacket and pulls out a tiny ball of red, placing it in Kou’s hand. He’s confused for a short moment, until he realizes what he’s holding and pets at the small Allmate’s head. With that, Beni sparks to life and blinks, appearing to be confused. A smile forms across Kou’s face as he pets the little bird, enjoying the fact that he’s actually never held Beni before. “Beni-kun! Where is Koujaku-san? I’ve never seen you two separated before.”   
  
Beni immediately hops out of Kou’s hand, zipping in the air around the man as his voice echoes through the hallway, “That’s the problem! I can’t even connect to his coil anymore, he’s out of range! I don’t know where that idiot wandered off to, but he’s gonna regret leaving me behind. I’ll never let him sleep again! Let me at him, I’ll peck his nose right off of his face!” Kou watches him fly around a few more times before clapping his hands together, grabbing the Allmate out of the air and gently shushing him.   
  
Kou tries his best to settle the ornery bird stuck in his hands as he wonders out loud, “out of range? Koujaku-san….” Noticing that he had been left behind as Mizuki and Hagima have a conversation in the living room, he quickly moves down the rest of the hallway until it empties into the living room. He focuses in on their conversation and tries to catch himself up.   
  
“If he’s really going into Scratch territory,” Hagima starts, “then we’d better track him down quickly. Those guys are trouble.”   
  
“They’re more than trouble,” Mizuki responds. “They’ll kill him. Not that I don’t believe that Koujaku is a talented swordsman, but he’ll quite literally be bringing a sword to a gun fight. Based on how he’s been acting today, I doubt he’d even try to approach them in a way that doesn’t end with getting his ass shot.”   
  
Hagima thinks for a few seconds, hand just under his chin. He sighs as he comes to a conclusion. “There’s no other choice, then. How long has it been since he left?”   
  
Mizuki pulled up his coil screen, checking the time. “Hours ago…. I didn’t go after him because I was trying to find Aoba. Now that I know he’s safe, Koujaku’s about to be in the same damn situation.”   
  
Hagima wears an expression of worry, looking out of the window as he tries to gauge how far he’d been able to walk. “If you were in the residential district when he left…. he has to be there by now. Or damn close. Do we go after him?”   
  
Mizuki looks troubled, as if he’s been asking himself the same thing for a while. “I can’t be responsible for anyone getting killed in this. I can’t send a bunch of my guys out into something that I know they aren’t prepared for, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.”   
  
Kou finally speaks up, making his presence known. “Isn’t that the same thing as letting Koujaku-san get killed?”   
  
Both Mizuki and Hagima’s heads swivel towards Kou, taking his words in. Hagima bites his lip, looking troubled at the decision they’re faced with. Mizuki, however, keeps his composure. It’s clear he’s been thinking about this for a while. He begins, “Listen, Kou… I don’t like this either. I have a lot of respect for the guy, I’d even call him a close friend. He’s important to me, you all are. My team, and even Benishigure…. well, they’re like family. That’s why I can’t ask-”   
  
Kou cuts him off, stomping his foot and letting Beni fly off so he can make a proper fist with both hands. “I can’t believe you guys! Koujaku-san would never abandon us, and I won’t abandon him! If we were in trouble, he’d save the day no matter how dangerous it is! Because Koujaku-san cares about us! Benishigure is my family, too, and that’s why I couldn’t let anyone fight alone! I’d rather die today upholding the honor of my team than live a hundred years with regret.” After his rant, Kou crosses his arms and pouts as a tiny red bird lands on his hair and settles in. His speech was inspiring, but he’s not exactly the most stoic member of the team.   
  
Mizuki rolls it around in his brain, taking Kou’s words to heart. Hagima is nearly in tears, giving Kou a firm nod for his performance. Mizuki sighs, coming to a conclusion. “Okay. Listen to me. I want you two to promise me, look into my eyes and tell me you’re willing to do this. I’m willing to go in after him, but I won’t let you guys jump into this without fully understanding what it means. This isn’t your usual Rib fight. If we show up in that part of town, they won’t hesitate to kill us. There could be just a few, or there could be a lot of them. In the case that there’s a lot of them, we’re fucked.” He holds out his hand, a painfully serious look in his eyes. “Don’t shake my hand unless you understand.”   
  
Without hesitation, both Benishigure members shake Mizuki’s hand one at a time, sharing an intense gaze. Kou holds his handshake a bit longer than Hagima did, whispering, “Benishigure Search and Rescue Rangers…..” And Mizuki can swear he sees a twinkle in that man’s eye. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about, but whatever.   
  
Once Kou pulls away, he notes how intense Mizuki seemed. The way Mizuki worded that made it sound like they were agreeing to a suicide pact…. though that was the point, after all. He wouldn’t get his point across it he had worded it any lighter. Mizuki doesn’t want any blood on his hands, so this is his way of giving up control.   
  
Kou thinks that is pretty badass.   
  
Beni adds his own comment, settled in nicely on Kou’s head, “Don’t worry, I’ll beat down all of those Scratch bastards so I can be the one to kill Koujaku.”   
  
Somehow, even with the intense 'we’ll probably die’ conversation they just had, the group manages to laugh at Beni’s input. This was most likely why Koujaku picked out Beni with his spitfire personality. It’s easy to control your own temper when something else expresses it for you. Once they’re done, Mizuki picks the conversation up again. “Oh, you said Aoba is sleeping?”   
  
Hagima responds, “Yeah, he’s in the bedroom. Knocked right out once we got here.”   
  
“Can I see him?”   
  
“I don’t see why not,” Hagima says. They all turn, following each other down the hall yet again as they approach the bedroom. Hagima very slowly slides the door open, making sure not to wake the man inside. Given the fact that Aoba was already a heavy sleeper, he could probably throw the door open and kick a lamp over with Aoba never even knowing. It’s not like Hagima would know that, though. Once the door is open wide enough for them to squeeze through, they silently funnel into the room. Aoba is almost entirely clothed, though it looks like he managed to kick one of his tube-socks off during his nap.   
  
Mizuki is the first to approach the bed, taking a look at Aoba’s face. He has to awkwardly lean over the bed to see it, since Aoba had curled himself into a ball. Mizuki clicks his tongue, hoping the damage underneath his clothes wasn’t too bad. “Damn, they got him good. No wonder he’s so tired. You say he walked across town like this?”   
  
Kou answers, “we don’t know how far he walked, but it sounded pretty far. Should we leave him here to rest while we go find Koujaku-san?”   
  
Mizuki thinks about it, not knowing if he should wake the man up or not. Before he can decide, Beni pops off of Kou’s head and flies towards the bed, landing right in front of Aoba’s face. The Allmate pecks at Aoba’s nose, screaming, “Wake up! Lazy Aoba, now’s no time to sleep!” He pecks again.   
  
Aoba swats him away and rolls over towards the group, moaning, “five more minutes…..” His eyelids flutter lightly, slowly prying themselves open as the three figures in his room come into focus. He sits up, taking Beni in his hands as the events of the last few days hit him hard and he realizes what’s going on. “Beni! Oh, Beni, I’m so glad….” He cranes his neck up towards the rest of the group as he excitedly asks, “Where’s Koujaku?”   
  
They stand there looking at each other, nobody knowing what to say.   
  
“….. He…. _was_ with you, wasn’t he, Mizuki?”   
  
Mizuki awkwardly scratches the back of his head, avoiding eye contact as he says, “I….. lost Koujaku. He thought Scratch kidnapped you for some reason, so he went off to find them, and…” Aoba stares at him, making Mizuki nervous as he continues. “Don’t worry, we’re going to go after him. You just stay here and rest, okay?”   
  
Aoba glares, looking between the three of them. “You’re telling me…. you let him wander off, completely alone, into the most aggressive rival’s territory?” Aoba sets Beni down and carefully gets up from the bed, advancing towards Mizuki, making the leather-clad man back away in self defense. “And the one person who knows us in that entire team, the _one_ person who might show us a little bit of pity; the _leader_ , even, hasn’t been seen for at least a year? Is that what you’re telling me?”   
  
Mizuki tries his best to defend himself without causing Aoba any more stress than he’s already feeling, or making himself seem any more incompetent. “W-well, you see…. when you say it like that…. wait, no, I’m not his damn babysitter! I can’t control if he acts all weird and wanders off, all I did was try to help him and he wouldn’t listen!” Mizuki crosses his arms and turns his head away, feeling irritated again, “just staring at that damn dog the whole time and then vanishing without saying a word.”   
  
Aoba perks up at that, eyes widening. “Dog….? Ren? He has Ren!?”   
  
“Oh, yeah. I forgot. He showed up here this morning, but Koujaku has him now. At least, he did the last time I saw him.” Mizuki wonders if Aoba will kill him before any Scratch members even become a threat.   
  
Aoba can’t decide if he likes the idea of Ren being with Koujaku. At least he knows Ren survived whatever happened in that alley, but he’s not in a much better situation. Still, it’s a relief knowing that they’re at least together, so he only has to worry about finding one of them. He stretches his back, hearing a distinct pop and wincing afterwards. “Let’s go get them, then.”   
  
Aoba tries to bend over to find his sock, now splayed out on the floor, but Mizuki stops him in his tracks. “Hey, now, you’re in no position to be doing this. We’ll take care of it. You need to rest some more.”   
  
Hagima chimes in too, adding, “You struggled even making it here, Aoba-san….”   
  
Mizuki pushes him back into the bed, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Just get yourself some well deserved rest, Aoba. I bet by the time you wake up, we’ll already ha- hey!” In the middle of his spiel, Aoba snatched Mizuki’s coil right off of his wrist. Mizuki makes one fumbled grab for it but doesn’t push it too hard, fearing that he might hurt the already injured man if he wrestled too roughly. Aoba scrolls through the contacts, attempting to call Koujaku one more time.   
  
Mizuki sighs at that, wishing he wasn’t wasting so much time. “It’s not going to work, Aoba. Trust me, I’ve tried. He won’t pick up.”   
  
Aoba sticks his tongue out, still focusing on the screen. He mutters, “I’m gonna try leaving a message, just in case he listens. If he hears that it’s me, he might stop acting like a jacka-”   
  
To everyone’s surprise, the call picks up.   
  
At first it’s nothing, just some feedback from the speaker. The camera feed comes up, showing nothing but a grainy black screen. Weird…. the group quickly files in behind Aoba to get a better view of the screen, wondering if Koujaku could have answered it on accident. After being thoroughly confused for a moment, Aoba speaks up, “Koujaku? Koujaku, look at your coil.” When they see nothing change on the screen, Aoba raises his voice, “Koujaku! Kooujakuu, answer me! It’s Aoba!”   
  
Suddenly, the ground is visible. The camera appears to be shaky, definitely more than it should be while secured to someone’s wrist. Aoba’s about to speak again, thinking he’s finally gotten Koujaku’s attention. In that instant, the camera pans up from the ground, revealing….. Koujaku.   
  
It’s not the Koujaku they were expecting, however. This Koujaku is lying on the floor, back towards the camera. His wrists appear to be bound behind his back with some sort of makeshift restraints. There’s half a dozen men standing in the room; some standing above him, others sitting or leaning against walls. They look bored, like they’re waiting for something to happen.   
  
Aoba’s heart stops in an instant, and he feels like he’s going to throw up. What he’s seeing…. can’t be real, right? Before he can stop himself, he’s screaming into the speaker. “Koujaku! Let him go, what are you doing!? Koujaku!!”   
  
The man holding the coil comes into view, looking proud of himself. He displays a crooked smile for the shocked group, then starts speaking. “Oooh, we got ourselves an audience, boys. You know this guy? We were thinkin’ about…. bashin’ his teeth in. Wanna watch?” The man slips out of view once again, choosing to focus on the figure instead. He steps closer to Koujaku’s now limp body, picking up a wooden bat and prodding at his tattooed body to turn him over. Maybe it’s just the camera, but the tattoos on his exposed chest look a little more red than usual. “Figure we got a yakuza here….. let’s show 'em who runs this island.”   
  
The bat lightly smacks against Koujaku’s cheek a few times, making his eyes flutter ever so softly. The group on the other end of the coil screen can’t hold back the collective gasp they share, Aoba adding in another loud, “KOUJAKU!”   
  
It rings through the speakers so loudly that even they can hear the echo.   
  
In that instant, Koujaku’s eyes snap open. He looks straight up into the screen, seeing a flash of blue hair. His throat is dry and voice barely audible, but a faint, “Aoba…” can be heard through the speakers. He still seems out of it, eyes quickly shutting again. He bares his teeth, growling noticeably louder now. “Aoba…!” _AOBA!_ “ Koujaku’s eyes snap open yet again, this time accompanied by a pained scream as he begins to thrash around in his restraints. Mizuki quickly reaches over, pressing the disconnect button. It’s…. not a good idea to let Aoba watch any more of that. They all sit there silently for a few seconds, not sure how to process what they just witnessed. Aoba starts to tear up, an instant reaction he couldn’t control.   
  
Mizuki places a hand on his back, trying to comfort him. "Aoba….”   
  
In a knee-jerk reaction, Aoba throws himself off of the bed, completely forgetting his achy body. Kou and Hagima also snap into action, running out of the bedroom and down the hall. If that video wasn’t a call to action for them, nothing would be. Aoba wipes at his face and sniffles as he slides his sock back up his leg, preparing to leave. Mizuki figures there’s no way to talk him out of it now, so he doesn’t bother. Instead, he retrieves Aoba’s shoes from the doorway and places them on the floor next to the bed. In a gentle tone, he says, “the good news is, they seem to be more interested in toying with him than killing him. That gives us some time to get over there. He’s a tough guy, he can hold himself until then.”   
  
Aoba grinds his teeth in response, attempting to hold back any more tears as his voice cracks, “I know he can, that’s not what I’m worried about.”   
  
Mizuki seems a bit surprised by that response. “Well that’s…… good?”   
  
Aoba finishes putting on his shoes, then turns to face Mizuki. He adds, “I’m worried about everyone else in there. He’s going to kill them, Mizuki. He’ll rip them apart, he-” Aoba has to stop to cover his mouth, feeling the burn of more tears welling up in his eyes and a thick knot forming in his throat. “I have to be there, he needs me. That thing on his wrists, it looks so weak, it couldn’t possibly keep him…. Oh, god, I can’t let him get any worse.” Aoba stands up, shaking. Neither of them are sure if it’s caused by fatigue or emotional strain.   
  
Of course, Mizuki isn’t entirely sure what that response means. He’s beginning to think there are elements in play that he’s not completely aware of. But now’s not the time to push it, they’ve already wasted enough time as is.   
  
Mizuki starts down the hallway, looking over his shoulder at the blue haired man behind him. “Let’s go catch up with Kou and Hagima.”


End file.
